


WinterIron Collection

by Potrix



Series: Everything WinterIron [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universes, Arguing, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Friend, Bucky's Prosthetic Arm, Civil War, Civil War Elements, Class Differences, Coming Out, Coping Mechanisms, Crossdressing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dyslexia, Empathic Bucky Barnes, Endearments, Explicit Sexual Content, Fatherhood, First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gentle Dom Bucky Barnes, Hair Braiding, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, Jealousy, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Marriage, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Tony Stark, Omega Tony Stark, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Tony Stark, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Pet Names, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Tony Stark, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Sappy, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Sharing Clothes, Slow Dancing, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Stubborn Steve, Sub Tony Stark, Summer Camp, Tattoos, Teacher Bucky Barnes, Teenagers, Tony Being Tony, Touch-Starved, True Love, Tumblr Prompts, Wall Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Wooing, prompt collection, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 48,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attitude, daddy issues, steamy kisses, insecurities and a lot of snarking - a brief summary of Tony and Bucky.</p><p>A collection of random drabbles and prompts submitted to my <a href="http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/">winteriron blog</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Howard's Mementos

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Not a Hooker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494822) by [wtfironwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfironwinter/pseuds/wtfironwinter)



> Exactly what it says on the tin. 
> 
> Anonymous prompt for chapter one: "Imagine Tony finding out that even though Steve could get along with him, Bucky never really liked or trusted Howard."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "(OMG SO EXCITED for this blog!) Imagine Tony finding out that even though Steve could get along with him, Bucky never really liked or trusted Howard."

“What’s all this?” Bucky asks, stepping out of the elevator and weaving his way through the obstacle course that used to be a hallway with Steve hot on his heels, curiously peering into boxes and shifting papers as he goes.

“Spring cleaning,” Clint grins, half buried underneath some dozen files on one of the couches. “Flee while you still have the chance!”

Tony rolls his eyes from his position on the floor but shoots Bucky a small smile as he approaches. “Just, you know. Getting rid of some stuff. And,” he adds, turning to glare at Clint, “no one forced you to help, you invited yourself.”

Clint just waves his hand in a clear ‘yeah, whatever’ gesture, completely absorbed in a folder with a big, red classified stamp on the cover.

Before Bucky can form a reply to any of that, Steve straightens up from where he had been crouching down next to an old cabinet, an unreadable expression on his face as he says, voice tight and disapproving, “You can’t throw this out.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look up from the box he’s sorting through. “It’s mostly junk, Steve. Take it if you want it.”

“These were Howard’s things,” Steve goes on, stubborn as always, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“As I said, feel free to take them,” Tony sniffs dismissively, but there’s a certain tension under the forced nonchalance.

And while this thing between him and Tony is still new, while it’s still hard sometimes to differentiate between what Tony’s saying and what the words actually mean, Bucky definitely knows Steve and how the way he straightens his back and squares his shoulders means he’s gearing up to argue.

Not out of malice, that’s not like Steve, but the Howard he remembers and the Howard Tony knew were two completely different people, and Bucky is well aware that Steve continues to struggle with adjusting to the fact that he’s missed so much while being under the ice.

He hasn’t outright said it, though Bucky is fairly sure Steve also feels guilty and somehow responsible for Howard’s actions and behaviour toward Tony, however ridiculous that notion might be.

None of which excuses the bull in a china shop approach he keeps taking in his well-intended but poorly-received attempts to get Tony to open up and talk.

“Leave it alone, Stevie,” Bucky warns, just sharp enough to let him know that he’s serious, and Steve narrows his eyes at him but huffs and relents after another moment, which is apparently enough for Tony to meet Steve halfway.

“I know you guys were all buddy-buddy in the old days,” he sighs, gesturing at Bucky and Steve as he rubs a tired hand over his face. “But dad and me, we were never close. It was shitty and I resented him for a long time and blamed him for a lot of my issues, still do sometimes, but that’s not your problem. Really, if there’s something you want, go ahead and take it. You were friends and that’s fine, I get it.”

“Honestly?” Bucky starts with a little, one-shouldered shrug, and Steve’s lips purse because he knows Bucky, too, that goes both ways. “I always thought he was kind of a pretentious dick.”

That is followed by a few seconds of complete and utter silence, broken eventually by Tony snorting out an almost giddy laugh that turns into throaty giggles as he holds out his hand for Bucky to take and pulls him down next to him for a kiss.

“I knew there was a reason you were my favourite,” he grins against Bucky’s lips and Bucky can practically hear Steve roll his eyes at that, grinning right back and playfully nudging Tony’s nose with his own.

“Yeah,” Clint pipes up, amused and very obviously up to no good, “I’m sure the moaning everyone heard last night has nothing to do with how you pick your favourites, Tin Can.”

Steve groans, pulling a face, and Bucky tucks his face into Tony’s neck to muffle his chuckles.

Tony throws a crumpled-up piece of paper at a cackling Clint, but Bucky can feel him smile against the side of his head.


	2. Not a Hooker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine a Tony and Bucky AU where Tony is a prized courtesan, Bucky as a soldier (or something of the like)."

The club is packed with sweaty people grinding against each other on the dance floor, the air heavy with smoke and the music loud enough to make Bucky tense up the moment they step inside.

He doesn’t realise he’s clutching at his prosthetic until Natasha curls her hand around his fingers, guiding them back down to his side with a gentle squeeze.

“Drinks,” she mouths since talking would be a wasted effort, linking arms with Clint as she makes her way over to the bar, confident that the others will follow her lead.

It’s only Steve’s arm around his shoulders that has Bucky moving, but he still shakes his head _no_ when Steve leans in close to ask if he wants to leave.

He promised them he’d try, just one night out among friends to get him out of his ‘funk’. Bucky knows they’re worried and they certainly have reason to be. It’s been hard since he got discharged, difficult to adjust back to civilian life.

Natasha has already ordered for them once they finally manage to elbow their way over and Bucky gladly reaches for his water, downing most of it in one go and then clinging to his glass while the others sip at their beers and make conversation.

It’s honestly not as bad as he thought it would be, but Bucky can’t help repeatedly checking the exits and searching for possible routes of escape in case of an emergency. He’s been doing it ever since he got back and while it’s annoying and frustrating at home, out in public and with so many people around it’s an impossibility to keep on top of everything and everyone’s movements.

He excuses himself after barely half an hour and no one says anything, Natasha pulling him into a quick hug and Clint clapping a hand to his back, his eyes warm and full of understanding. Steve reels him in, too, reminds him to call should he need him and to send a text and let everyone know that he got home okay.

It would be embarrassing if Bucky hadn’t lost himself in memories and ended up in some dingy part of town without a clue how he got there or how to get back just last week.

He makes a short detour to the bathroom, fidgeting nervously as he waits in line when something catches his eye. It’s subtle, done through an innocent handshake and over in an instant, but Bucky sees the notes being exchanged right before the guy is led away with a possessive hand on the small of his back.

Bucky, apparently, isn’t fast enough to look away because a moment later another man peels himself away from where he was leaning against the wall next to the other pair, licking his lips as he beelines straight for Bucky.

He’s gorgeous, all tousled hair and honey brown eyes, nose crinkling when he sees the blush Bucky can feel creeping up his neck.

It’s not that Bucky’s shy, rather the opposite, but it’s been a while, back before the accident. And even then it wasn’t with someone who did this sort of thing for a living, the mere thought of which makes Bucky swallow uncomfortably around the growing lump in his throat.

The man’s voice is pitched low when he purrs a definitely flirty, “Hello there, handsome.”

Bucky’s answer, blurted without thinking, is a slightly panicked, “I don’t have any money.”

At that, the man’s brows draw together in confusion and he glances over at the retreating back of what is probably his colleague, then back at Bucky with one corner of his mouth curled up in amusement.

“Don’t worry about it, hot stuff,” he grins and steps in close, taking Bucky’s hand in his own.

It’s the wrong one and Bucky flinches even though he can’t feel the contact, pulling away quickly and tucking the prosthetic under his other arm as he ducks his head, biting his bottom lip to keep from either snapping or crying, he isn’t one hundred percent sure which.

The finger under his chin that tilts up his head is a surprise, the man’s expression morphing into something softer at the sight of the tremors shaking Bucky’s body.

“Come on,” he smiles, sliding a supportive arm around Bucky’s waist, “let’s get some air.”

They don’t go far, only to a quieter spot around the corner where the crowd starts to thin out before the man stops and turns to face Bucky, hand coming up to soothingly rub up and down Bucky’s good arm.

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbles sheepishly but the other man merely shrugs, hand moving higher to the side of Bucky’s neck, thumb stroking lazy circles over Bucky’s skin.

It should be awkward, the two of them standing there, almost chest to chest, but instead Bucky finds himself relaxing slowly, melting a little into the careful touch and not protesting when the man stands up on his toes to brush a brief, feather-light kiss over the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“You up for some coffee? My ride is here,” he breathes, followed by another chaste press of lips.

The last thing Bucky expects to see when the man pulls away is a car that probably costs more than what Bucky gets in pensions in a year or the driver getting out to open the door for them with a polite tilt of his head.

Screwing his eyes shut, Bucky takes a deep, steadying breath before asking, “You’re not what I thought you were, are you?”

Instead of being offended by Bucky’s clearly wrong assumptions, the man grins and tugs at Bucky’s shirt, leading him over to the car with a husky, “Honey, I can be anything you want if you’re into that sort of thing.”

***

Tony gets up, flute of champagne ready for his speech, but looks back down at the hand shooting out to catch his arm.

“If you tell them the story of how we met,” Bucky hisses, eyes narrowed in warning, “you’ll be spending your wedding night on the couch.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony pouts, managing to hold the expression for all of two seconds before he’s smiling again and leaning down to press a kiss to his new husband’s lips.


	3. Summer Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony and Bucky as teens at a summer camp and one night Steve wakes up to Bucky on top of Tony making out in Tony's bunk and Tony gets all worried that Steve's gonna report them and tries to pull away from Bucky, but he's too protective."

The first time Bucky sees him is the day they arrive at camp, hauling crates stuffed with cables, bolts and other random mechanical knickknacks from the parking lot over to the dorms.

He’s got messy brown hair sticking up in all possible and impossible directions, deliciously tan skin, eyes the colour of dark honey and an ass that looks downright edible in those tight-fighting black jeans he’s wearing.

Bucky doesn’t realise he’s staring until Steve shoves some of their bags at him with a suspiciously raised eyebrow and starts pushing him toward their own cabin.

***

Orientation is predictably boring.

But, by some stroke of cosmic luck, Bucky finds Mechanic Guy again, sitting just two rows ahead with some friends, chattering and gesturing animatedly and nearly vibrating out of his seat with giddy excitement. 

It’s sweet, his obvious enthusiasm, Bucky thinks and then promptly flushes bright red to the very tips of his ears when the guy suddenly turns and catches him looking.

All he does, though, is lift a hand to wave at Bucky and Bucky automatically does the same before he remembers he’s wearing a shirt and that the prosthetic is clearly visible, quickly ducking his head and tucking it under his other arm.

When he chances another glance up a few minutes later, the other boy’s eyes are still on him and he actually smiles at Bucky.

It doesn’t exactly help with the blush situation.

***

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” is all the warning Bucky gets before a tray is put down on the table next to his and someone slides onto the bench right beside him. “It’s magnificent. Is it experimental? How does it work? Where does it get power? Does it hurt? Oh, I’m Tony, by the way, hello, nice to meet you, tell me about your fancy metal arm. Please?”

All Bucky can do is blink owlishly, a bite of mac and cheese hovering uselessly halfway between his plate and mouth which probably isn’t very attractive.

Damn it.

“I-“ Bucky croaks, awkwardly clearing his throat. “You like it?”

“Well, duh,” Tony snorts, plucking at Bucky’s sleeve with absolutely no regard for personal space whatsoever. “Who wouldn’t, it’s awesome! I mean,” he backpedals, a little sheepish now, “not needing an artificial limb in the first place would be better, of course, but as far as replacements go, this is pretty neat.”

Bucky continues to gape speechlessly.

Tony grimaces. “Oh, is it a sensitive subject? Shit, yeah, of course it is. Uh, yeah. Sorry about that, I do this thing sometimes where my mouth talks and my common sense has trouble keeping up. I’ll, uh, I’ll just go and maybe we can pretend this never happened?”

He makes to stand but Bucky finally composes himself enough to snag his jacket and shake his head. “No, it’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it. It’s just that people usually get all weird and pitying about it, you know?”

“No weirdness, got it,” Tony grins and plops back down, tugging Bucky’s arm closer to peer and poke at the connections between the individual plates. “Now, can you feel this?”

***

Tony is quirky, never quiet and incredibly smart.

He doesn’t like talking about his family but won’t shut up about his experiments and projects.

But he’s also kind, listening to what Bucky has to say with an almost frightening intensity, and tactile and completely unashamed about it, taking Bucky’s hand to pull him along or bumping their hips together or playing with Bucky’s arm or resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky, meanwhile, is falling hard and fast.

***

They’ve crawled under one of the high cabins for some shade and relief from the summer heat, lying side by side when Tony, without warning, rolls over and presses his lips to Bucky’s.

Bucky, after the initial surprise, curves a hand over Tony’s jaw and kisses back.

***

“What are you doing?” Bucky demands, nevertheless grinning and holding out a hand to help pull Tony in through the window and onto his bed. “Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble we’ll be in if someone catches us?”

“I wanted to see you,” Tony pouts, rearranging them both so he’s straddling Bucky, humming happily as he bends down to nibble on Bucky’s ear. “I missed you.”

Which is ridiculous since they spent the whole afternoon making out behind the boat house, but Bucky isn’t about to complain.

Instead, he slides his hands under Tony’s shirt and up his back, nudging at Tony’s cheek with his nose until their mouths meet, swiping his tongue over Tony’s bottom lip and-

“Bucky?”

They both freeze at the sound of Steve’s voice and, very slowly, Bucky turns his head to see Steve sitting up in his own bed, eyes flickering from Bucky to Tony and back.

“We-“ Bucky tries but then falters, trailing off, because this is so not how he planned on coming out to his best friend. “Steve, I’m-“

All three of them jump at the knock on the door and the barked, “It’s after lights out, what’s going on in there?”

It’s Steve who recovers first, sliding off his bed and quickly darting across the room to grab Tony by the arm. “Come on,” he whispers and Bucky’s stomach does an anxious flip before he realises Steve is pulling Tony over toward the closet and not to Fury standing outside, unceremoniously shoving him into the space between their luggage. “Stay there and be quiet.”

Finally regaining enough of his senses to move, Bucky scrambles up to open the door, putting on his most innocently charming grin as he asks, “What’s up?”

Fury looks entirely unimpressed by his act, his remaining good eye sweeping across the room and over Steve who’s standing by the sink, splashing water on his face.

“You boys all right?”

“Yep,” Bucky blurts, probably way too fast, and Steve nods along eagerly, nearly dislocating his head from his shoulders.

“Okay, then,” Fury allows, still looking suspicious but turning to leave. “Get back to bed, it’s late.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky and Steve say in unison, both holding their breath until they can no longer hear Fury’s retreating footsteps.

Tony tumbles out from his hiding spot a moment later, trying and doing a very poor job of holding back his giggles as he crawls back into Bucky’s bed to burrow under the covers.

“Steve-“ Bucky starts, but Steve just waves dismissively, flopping back down on his own bed with a murmured, “Keep it down, will you?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky sighs, relieved, practically bouncing into Tony’s outstretched arms and letting himself be pulled close, tucking his head into Tony’s neck where he falls asleep to the sensation of Tony’s fingers running through his hair.


	4. Friends Meeting Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony and Bucky meeting for the first time post CAWS. Steve brings Bucky to the tower and is super nervous about his old and new friends meeting each other, but Tony and Bucky hit it off right away."

Tony is elbow deep in one of his projects, hair mussed and face smeared with motor oil, when JARVIS suddenly turns the Black Sabbath down to a less ear-shattering volume and announces, _“Captain Rogers is requesting entrance to the workshop, sir.“_

“He’s got the access codes,” Tony frowns but pulls his hands free, wiping them on his already helplessly stained jeans. “Did we change the access codes, J?”

 _“Captain Rogers was unsure of his companion’s status and security clearance,”_ JARVIS informs him, uncharacteristically opaque, a surefire way to pique Tony’s interest.

Ignoring his protesting knees - middle age will not win this round, excuse _you_ very much - Tony almost skips over to the door in his excitement, only to stop short when he sees who’s waiting there on the other side with Cap.

The first and only time Tony came face to face with the Winter Soldier had been when they brought him into the remainders of SHIELD, kicking and snarling at everyone within spitting distance, literally in some cases.

Steve has kept them all up to date on the Soldier’s, on _Bucky’s_ progress over the last several months, either bouncing around the common levels, humming happily to himself, or brooding out on the roof or hiding in his own quarters, depending on the current day’s success of whatever therapy an ex-brainwashed, ninety year old, sometimes frozen kind-of-but-not-really-Russian assassin was supposed to go through before being declared fit to meet the general public.

The man hovering almost shyly behind Steve now looks nervous, twitching ever so slightly every now and again, clearly uncomfortable as he’s waiting with a hand clutching at his empty left sleeve.

 _Dejected_ is the first thing that comes to Tony’s mind, quickly followed by _kind of cute, though_ which, huh.

Realising he’s been staring at the two of them - totally not only at Bucky, _hello_ , that would be creepy - for a solid minute, Tony shakes himself and waves them inside with a cheerful, “Welcome to my lair!”

“Tony,” Steve says, going for the usual half fond, half exasperated tone of voice he always uses around Tony but missing by a mile. “This is Bucky,” he introduces the other man, giving him a little nudge that makes Bucky jump and then nod his head in Tony’s general direction.

Steve, from behind Bucky’s back, shoots Tony an imploring look and something clicks; he’s worried.

Tony’s attention, however, is derailed when Bucky takes another step into the shop, obviously heading for the improvised garage, before catching himself and turning back to Steve, wide-eyed and almost panicked.

“You like the cars?” Tony ventures, startling Bucky but not letting that reaction deter him in the slightest. Instead he asks, “Wanna open one up and play?” because why the hell not?

Bucky glances at Steve, as if waiting for permission, a brilliant smile stealing over his face when Steve gives him a little push toward Tony.

***

Tony has absolutely no idea how much time has passed when he rolls out from under the car Bucky picked - the 1967 Shelby Cobra, an excellent choice - to reach for a different wrench and finds a plate of neat little triangle sandwiches sitting on top of his toolbox.

He plucks at Bucky’s shirt and gets up, carrying the food over to the coffee maker with Bucky happy to trail after him.

Then they pick apart the coffee maker, explanations and questions muffled through mouths full of ham and cheese, until Bucky gets distracted by DUM-E and they move on to give him an oil change and grease his wheel joints.

After that it’s playing around with the holograms, reassembling the coffee maker because Tony would actually like a cup at some point, introducing Bucky to Tetris and blowing up stuff - including the rest of the sandwiches - with one of the Iron Man gauntlets.

Bucky is grinning when he lowers his hand, eyes flickering over the glove’s delicate design before meeting Tony’s own, sparkling with mischief and glee.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Tony promises with a cheeky wink, raising his own hand as he instructs, “Jay, baby, target practice protocol _Spaghetti Western_ , if you’d be so kind.”

***

With Bucky and Tony off in their own little world of machines and mechanics - and he really shouldn’t have been surprised by how the two of them immediately got along - Steve flops down in one of the chairs and pulls out his sketchbook to pass the time.

He makes lunch, deposits a plate somewhere close to where Bucky and Tony are working, trying not to disturb them, and then takes his own meal up to the common living room where Natasha is lounging around while Clint shoots Zombies on the TV.

He has tea with Bruce, lets Thor talk him into sparring and calls Sam for a quick update on the situation.

When he returns to the workshop, one of the tables is collapsed and still smoking, one of the walls has a new hole in it and Bucky and Tony are passed out on the couch, Tony’s head on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky’s good arm curled loosely around Tony in return.

Smiling, Steve retrieves a more or less clean-looking blanket from the back of the sofa and carefully smoothes it over the two sleeping men.

Then he goes to find a broom.


	5. Braid Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: "imagine tony being surprisingly good at braiding hair and doing bucky's into really elaborate braids, and bucky trying to do tony's but only managing little ones like hiccup in httyd2"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this second prompt: "Imagine Tony braiding Bucky's hair and beeing actually very good at it because he used to have a doll before Howard confiscated it. So Bucky lets Tony play with his hair whenever he wants. Plus Bucky finds it very relaxing."

“For thelove of-“ Tony snaps, reaching over to bat Bucky’s hands away from where they’re fussing with his hair. Again. “Would you stop with that, you’re driving me crazy.”

Bucky - knowing exactly what that expression does to Tony, the little shit - pushes out his bottom lip and widens his eyes, all innocent and sweet. “It’s getting in my face,” he complains miserably, tugging at one of the strands that have come loose from his bun.

Sighing, Tony turns so his back is against the couch’s armrest and pats the space between his legs in invitation. “C’mere, dumbass.”

It’s a matter of minutes to finger comb the mess that is Bucky’s hair and manipulate it into something that at least resembles a proper style, even with Tony allowing himself the luxury of pressing kisses to Bucky’s shoulders and neck every now and again.

“Scrunchie,” Tony demands and Bucky passes it back, tugging at his new braid to pull it over in front of him for inspection the moment Tony’s done.

“Neat,” he declares happily and twists around, rearranging the both of them until he’s sprawled all over Tony, communicating his satisfaction with their position through a low, contented hum.

***

“Do the hair thing,” Bucky demands as he whirls into the ‘shop and plops down on one of the workbenches, adding an eye-roll and a “Please,” when Tony quirks an unimpressed brow at him.

He holds out a brush and a small box of various hair ties and clips, his face open and hopeful and damn it, it’s not like Tony’s able to say no to that.

“Fine,” he sighs and can’t help but smile into the enthusiastic kiss Bucky smacks onto his lips. “Same as last time or a different one?”

“Surprise me,” Bucky decides and sits down right there on the floor in front of Tony, unbothered by the dust and oil and grease, tipping his head back to excitedly glance up at Tony.

Tony can feel it under his hands as he works, how the constant tension Bucky tries to hide under his recovered swagger and sass melts out of his muscles, leaves him limp and vulnerable to Tony’s ministrations.

It’s a privilege, Tony knows, getting to see him like this. Not many people are allowed to these days.

“What’s this one called?” Bucky wants to know when they’re finished, twisting this way and that to get a good look at his back. “It looks… complicated.”

“Fishtail braid,” Tony says, catching him around the waist and pulling him close. “You like?”

“Let me show you how much,” Bucky grins and winks as he slides down to his knees.

***

“What are you doing?” Tony laughs, casually leaning in the bathroom doorway and enjoying the view of his freshly showered and still damp boyfriend.

“It’s impossible!” Bucky exclaims, frustrated, scowling at his reflection and yanking at what looks like a failed, knotty attempt at something braid-related. “It ain’t workin’ like the lady in the video said it would.”

“Practice,” Tony smiles and walks over, directing Bucky to sit on the closed toilet with a hand on the small of his back. “Wet hair isn’t helping either.”

When Tony’s done, a simple Dutch this time, Bucky makes them switch places before he starts rooting through the bathroom cabinets, coming up with bobby pins and styling gel.

Tony puts on a sceptical expression, but Bucky rubbing his fingers over his scalp and gently tugging at his hair is compensation enough for ending up looking like an electrocuted hedgehog.

***

HYDRA missions tend to take a lot out of Bucky and today turns out to be no exception.

Tony feeds him Sushi, quite literally, the two of them nestled close together on the couch with Bucky’s head in Tony’s lap, but even his usual favourite isn’t enough to lift Bucky’s spirits.

The bubble bath helps a little, the hot water and Tony’s hands running lightly up and down his sides eliciting almost inaudible sighs from Bucky, exhaled softly against the side of Tony’s neck.

After wrapping him in the fluffiest bathrobe he owns, Tony deposits Bucky on the bed, flat on his stomach, and straddles his legs, putting his brief affair with Zane the message therapist to good use.

With Bucky dozing and boneless, Tony attempts one of his more elaborate ideas. He starts with a diagonal French braid, from Bucky’s temple down the right side of his head and then across the back before twisting it up into a bun by his left ear.

He’s pretty proud of the results and by the time everything’s secured with a single pin, Bucky’s fast asleep and snoring softly into his pillow.

“Lights, J,” Tony yawns, wriggles under Bucky’s outstretched arm and pulls the blankets up over them both.

***

“Where’d you even learn to do this stuff?” Clint marvels, chip hanging halfway between the bowl and his mouth as he watches Tony’s fingers move through Bucky’s hair, movie completely forgotten.

Tony shrugs but when he glances up, the rest of the team has their eyes on him, too, looking expectant. Huffing, he turns back to his task. “Believe it or not, I was a kid once just like everyone else,” he says archly, then frowns and adds a testy “What?” when Clint starts sniggering.

“You played with dolls?”

“Putting gender restrictions on children’s toys is a ridiculous concept,” Tony sniffs and lifts his chin, daring anyone to contradict him on this. “My mother had a collection. Well, until Howard discovered she wasn’t the only one interested. She was crushed when he burned them.”

It takes a moment for the awkward silence to register but when it does, Tony winces - way to bring down the mood - and ducks his head, full attention on Bucky again.

“I had a dollhouse,” Bruce says eventually, not even looking up from the book - real paper, the heathen - he’s reading.

“Three sisters,” Bucky reminds them all, “lots of dolls and playing house. Steve was usually the mom.”

“True,” Steve allows, amused, and nods at the sketchbook leaned against his folded legs. “Wasn’t considered the most appropriate pastime for a teenage boy either, back then.”

“Clint watches My Little Pony,” Natasha supplies, entirely deadpan, and Tony shoots her a grateful smile when the discussion turns to tiny, colourful, shrill-voiced horses.

“Hey,” Bucky says quietly, only meant for Tony’s ears, craning his neck to kiss the underside of Tony’s chin. “You okay?”

Tony flicks his cheek. “Hold still,” he chastises, half-hearted at most, and can feel Bucky’s answering chuckle where they’re pressed together chest to back.


	6. Tattoo AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "imagine bucky getting sleeve tats from tony the tattoo artist, and after he loses his arm tony offers to paint the prosthetic"

Bucky’s just shy of nineteen when it starts with the Howling Commandos insignia, inked under his skin high up on his left shoulder during a short leave after his first tour with the Captain and their new team.

He’s nervous as all hell as he’s sitting in the waiting room, chewing his bottom lip and jiggling his legs and nearly walking out of the shop several times before the artist comes to fetch him.

The man’s in his late twenties, all messy brown hair, dark honey eyes, flirty smiles and practically oozing charm with every word he speaks.

“Tony,” he introduces himself and Bucky manages to stutter out his own name, blushing furiously much to the other man’s amusement, if the sudden crinkles around his eyes are anything to go by. “You ready?”

 _About to piss my pants_ , Bucky doesn’t say and nods instead, following Tony to his workstation and making himself comfortable while Tony prepares his equipment.

Bucky spends most of the session studying Tony’s tattoos - a lot of mechanical and geometrical designs, schematics and even some binary code covering most of his arms and what’s visible of his chest - and being pleasantly distracted from the burning pain by Tony’s constant chatter. 

When they’re done, Tony says, with a grin and a playful wink, “Come back anytime if you want more.”

On the train back to his parents’ house, Bucky is already scribbling down ideas for what he wants to have done next.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with his crush on Tony. Well, almost nothing. A little, maybe.

Whatever.

***

Being away from home and his family for most of the year is harder than Bucky, in his youthful disregard of everything overtly emotional, originally anticipated.

He makes an appointment with Tony, getting large wings that span all the way from his shoulder blades down to the small of his back; one for each parent, a symbol of protection.

Three sisters equal three fingerprints. He gets those over his right collarbone only a week later.

***

The Brooklyn skyline circling his left forearm is next, followed by his two favourite rifles over his hipbones and vanishing down into his private region, ginger flowers on the backs of his hands after his promotion to sergeant, an old-fashioned compass over his heart and a totally cliché but entirely badass bald eagle filling the space between the skyline and the insignia.

***

The little rainbow flag on the sole of his right foot is done in protest after a heated argument about _Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell_ with a fellow soldier.

When the policy’s repealed not two months later, Bucky absolutely takes credit, immediately comes out to his squadron, gets punched in the face and experiences the joy of seeing Steve sock the guy in the jaw in turn.

He writes to Tony, knowing he’ll appreciate and laugh about the whole thing, and attaches a picture in which he’s posing proudly with his forming black eye.

They regularly exchange letters after that.

***

There’s an incredibly close call, Bucky already seeing himself falling to an icy death, Steve’s hand grabbing him at the last possible moment to haul him back through the hole into the train.

“I’ve got you,” Steve whispers into his hair back at the base later that night as shock catches up to them both, an arm curled around Bucky’s still trembling body while Bucky clings to him and rubs a hand up and down Steve’s tense back. “Always. ’Till the end of the line.”

Tony pulls him into a hug the moment Bucky steps into the shop when he’s stateside again, refusing to let go for a solid two minutes and cursing Bucky and his recklessness to high heaven all through.

Then he decorates Bucky’s right side with Steve’s promise, threatening to give him a permanent twirly moustache if he ever scares Tony like this again.

***

The 50s pin-up girl, wearing a sailor cap and smiling cheekily over her shoulder, goes on Bucky’s right calf.

The male equivalent, an actual sailor with _his_ cap the only thing covering his privates, on Bucky’s other leg joins the ensemble a few months later.

Bucky is all for equality, after all. 

***

The forty-fourth time - Bucky’s been counting, amused and flattered - Tony calls his ass delicious, Bucky demands he put a pair of bright red puckered lips on it.

Tony snickers through the whole session.

***

Bucky’s just shy of twenty-nine when he returns home a broken man.

Adjusting to civilian life after over a decade of military routine is hard and Bucky struggles a lot, even with all the counselling.

He withdraws from his family, breaks off contact with the other Howlies still in active service, doesn’t seek out the friends he has in New York.

He doesn’t go to the physical therapy appointments his doctors sign him up for and eventually stops answering the doctors’ calls, too.

The prosthetic is heavy and ugly. Bucky refuses to look at it unless absolutely necessary.

Most nights, he drinks himself to sleep. The nightmares still come.

***

Nursing a nasty hangover, Bucky drags himself out of bed when the banging on his front door rises to a volume he can’t ignore anymore by pulling a pillow over his head.

He has barely turned the knob when he finds himself with an armful of Tony and a warm mouth pressed lightly against his own.

“Asshole,” Tony sobs between kisses, sniffling and coughing wetly. “You fucking asshole. You almost die and you don’t even call? I really have terrible fucking taste, honestly.”

Bucky pulls him through the living area and into the bedroom where they collapse on the mattress in a tangle of limbs, holding on tightly through the tears and shudders.

***

Recovery is still hard, but with Tony there when things get really bad, Bucky finds he wants to get better.

For Tony, for his family and friends, but mostly for himself.

Because he’s worth it.

***

“Darling, come here a minute,” is the first thing Bucky hears when he comes home from the last fitting for his new prosthetic, smiling to himself as he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his jacket.

It’s been eight months and Bucky still feels a little thrill every time he thinks about the apartment as _theirs_ , as his and Tony’s.

The man in question Bucky finds in his drawing room, bouncing around excitedly and completely failing to hide the fact that he’s got something planned.

Bucky allows himself to be manhandled into an armchair, indulgent and quietly amused, humming happily when Tony moves to straddle him and inspect the new arm, making low sounds of approval in the back of his throat.

“So, I had this idea,” Tony begins, batting his lashes and biting his lip, all innocent and coy.

Bucky arches an inquisitive eyebrow and Tony pulls the little rolling cabinet containing his art supplies over to them, fingers of his free hand teasing up and down Bucky’s prosthetic and Bucky gets it, tugs at Tony’s shirt to tug him close for a kiss.

“Genius,” he murmurs against Tony’s lips and Tony preens, pecking both his cheeks and then his nose before moving back to grab a brush.

“Tell me what you want.”

Bucky smiles, steals one last kiss and says, “Surprise me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ginger flowers](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/29/Etlingera_elatior2.jpg) are beautiful and a symbol of being proud (of something or someone). In case someone was wondering.


	7. Handler Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "hi! fist time prompting so, right. ok so, i read a story about Tony getting kidnapped and brainwashed and given the super soldier serum by HYDRA like Bucky was and couldn't help but think what if HYDRA got Tony when he was younger. like maybe they got him when he was just 15 and starting out at MIT? so Bucky knows Tony and when they haven't had their minds wiped they're (totally dating) friends. so once HYDRA/SHIELD falls Bucky goes to get Tony and brings him home."

“I have to go back,“ is the first thing _Bucky_ says in almost seventy years. Steve stops in his advance and Bucky can see him in the reflection of the exhibit, _their exhibit_ , can see him jerk to a halt and then hesitate, one hand hanging in the air between them, as if itching to touch, to confirm, but unsure how such a gesture would be received.

There is more pleading in Bucky’s voice when he turns and he knows his eyes convey the same, knows Steve will listen, knows it down in his bones that Steve won’t stop him, will stand right by his side because _I’m with you till the end of the line_ and, “I need to go back.”

Bucky doesn’t realise he’s shaking until he’s wrapped in Steve’s warmth, Steve’s arms around him, grounding him, the only thing keeping him upright.

The moan that wrenches itself out of his throat is raw, broken, and Bucky clutches at Steve, presses closer, buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, each sound falling from his lips more desperate and pained than the last. “I need to go back,” he rasps, Steve’s hand in his hair anchoring him here, in the present, “I need to go back and get him. I need him, I need to get him, Steve, I can’t leave him-”

“Okay,” Steve hushes, a quiet hum, a single word but a promise no less. “We’re going back. We won’t leave him. I’m here, Buck, you’re not alone, not anymore. Whatever you need.”

***

_There is a second tank, already filled, as the asset is put away._

_The asset notices and then the asset goes to sleep._

***

_The new handler is different._

_There is no pain, there are no harsh words._

_Something pulls in the asset’s arm and the asset twitches, but there is no punishment._

_The handler’s face does something the asset doesn’t recognise, the handler says, “Sorry, shit, sorry. Did that hurt? It shouldn’t have, I thought I severed the, ah, yes, okay. Here, is this better?”_

_The asset stares. The asset doesn’t know what is expected, this is different, different, different-_

_“James?” the handler asks and the asset stares down at the hand, small and shaking, that the handler has placed on his chest. Not to restrict. The asset doesn’t understand, the asset does not have a name, hands hurt, this is different._

_“Shit, you wouldn’t-“ the handler curses and the asset braces for pain that doesn’t come. “This is all so fucked up, I can’t-“ the handler says and then stops, rubbing the hand that is not on the asset over his own face. “I’m gonna call you James, all right? I need to call you something. James is good, strong. Brave.”_

_The handler keeps talking and keeps touching, without pain, and the asset listens. The asset doesn’t answer and the handler doesn’t seem to mind._

_When maintenance is over, the handler takes the asset’s hand, the flesh one, and squeezes, gentle, not meant to hurt. “I’ll do everything I can,” the handler says, “I promise.”_

_The asset doesn’t understand._

_This handler is different._

_The asset likes this handler._

_Likes._

_Likes._

_Like-_

***

_The handler is always nice._

_The handler touches the asset, nice and soft, to calm and soothe._

_The handler tells the asset stories and laughs, the handler talks with his hands and the asset follows the movements, transfixed, fascinated._

_The handler is different and the asset likes the handler._

***

_It is a long mission and the handler is sent along to keep the asset functioning._

_The asset returns to the safe house covered in blood and grime and is directed to a cot in the back, is told to, “Get checked over.”_

_The handler is on the cot and the handler’s cheeks are wet. The handler is shaking, makes a strange noise when the asset approaches._

_The asset reaches out and the handler flinches, but the asset continues and presses a hand to handler’s chest, like the handler does for the asset sometimes._

_The handler throws himself at the asset, winds his arms around the asset, trembles against the asset._

_The asset copies the handler, holds the handler, and it is good._

_Different._

_Good._

***

_The asset is allowed to remember the handlers so the asset doesn’t attack the handlers._

_The different handler, the good handler tells the asset to call him Tony._

_Tony calls the asset James._

_Tony is different, Tony is good._

_Tony is always close when James is awake, Tony is always gentle and never angry._

_A lot of things are bad, a lot of things hurt. Tony is good, Tony never hurts James._

_Everything around James is grey and bad and pain._

_Tony is bright and good and light, James’ light._

_“Solnyshka moyo,“ James whispers into Tony’s hair, Tony’s back pressed against James’ chest in the cot they share on missions._

_Tony takes James’ hand, links James’ fingers with his._

_Links their fingers, Tony’s and James’._

_It is good._

***

“Where is he?” Bucky snarls but the HYDRA agent shakes his head, then cries out when his arm cracks under the pressure of Bucky’s boot. “Where?”

“Su- sub level four,” the agent stutters and it’s only Steve’s hand on his wrist that prevents Bucky from putting a bullet through the man’s skull.

The march down to the basement is made in silence, both Steve and Sam hovering close to Bucky in a show of support but not suffocating him, both very aware of the tension thrumming through him, of how close to his breaking point he is.

The moment he sees the tank, nothing can hold Bucky anymore. The throwing knife embedding itself in the guard’s leg is almost an afterthought, not important compared to Tony, _Tony!_

Bucky hits the switch to drain the cryo gel, shifts nervously from foot to foot while he waits for the green light, immediately releases the door locks when it flashes and gathers the drowsy, shivering man staggering out of the tank into his arms.

“What-“ Tony coughs, all that he manages before he starts heaving and Bucky angles his face to the side so he can breathe. “Wha- James?”

Tony’s knees buckle and Bucky lowers them both to the floor, Tony in his lap, Tony’s face cradled delicately between his hands as his eyes flicker over Tony, assessing, almost disbelieving.

Bucky’s chest aches but it’s a good ache.

“James?” Tony asks again, more focused now, fingers curling into Bucky’s jacket. There are tears on his cheeks and Bucky reaches up, gently brushes them away with his thumbs. “James, what happened?”

“Is that Tony Stark? _The_ Tony Stark?” Sam pipes up suddenly and Tony shifts to look over Bucky’s shoulder. “Holy shit!”

Bucky turns his head, presses his nose into Tony’s throat, feels the vibrations of Tony’s confused, “Is that Captain America?”

“It’s a long story, kid,” Steve says, a smile in his voice, but Bucky has stopped listening.

He cups Tony’s cheek and brings their mouths together, a press of lips that conveys more than words ever could.

“Solnyshka moyo,“ Tony chokes out and Bucky says “Yes,” and kisses him again.


	8. Soulmate AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "(Soulmate AU where the name of your soulmate is in their favourite font) Imagine Bucky with a binary code instead of a 'proper name' and Tony with the name of the man that was always seen as second to the great Captain America."

“It ain’t making any sense, Stevie,“ Bucky whines sulkily, pacing and rubbing a thumb over the neat row of ones and zeroes on his wrist. “It shoulda been a name.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve hums absently, not even glancing up from his sketchbook anymore at what must be the hundredth repetition of the same old argument, charcoal-smeared fingers moving over the page in their familiar _scratch scratch scratch_ pattern. “But it is what it is, there’s no changin’ it.”

Bucky scowls at Steve for a long moment, then throws himself across the bed next to him, grinning into the blankets when the movement makes Steve huff in annoyance. His moment of smug satisfaction doesn’t last, though.

“This is such bullshit,” he proclaims angrily, ignoring Steve’s reprimand at the swear and turning to press his face into Steve’s thigh instead. “Ain’t fair.”

With a sigh, Steve sets aside his drawing things and shuffles up the mattress until his back is against the wall, sliding a hand into Bucky’s hair and tugging gently. Bucky can just make out the flowery writing on his bony wrist, all lovely swirls and loops, and shoots it a withering glare, for all the good that’ll do.

“There is a purpose to all of it, it’s all part of His plan,” Steve says with a confidence Bucky wishes for, longs for with everything he’s got.

“Well, God’s got a terrible sense of humour, if you ask me.”

“Bucky!” Steve scolds, but there’s laughter in his voice now, Bucky can feel the rumble of it where he’s nestled against Steve.

The silence they share is comfortable, easy, but of course Steve has to break it by musing, “Maybe your soulmate’s a robot. Like the ones in the pictures?”

“Shut up,” Bucky snorts and grabs for a pillow to throw at his stupid face.

***

The mansion is dark as Tony creeps along the hallway, one hand in front of his mouth to muffle the occasional sniffle, the other clutching the ball of wet sheets to his chest.

He makes it to the laundry room undetected and stuffs the evidence of his latest mishap down the chute, dragging his sleeve over his eyes to dry away the few tears that escaped despite his best efforts.

Daddy says Stark men don’t cry.

Scrubbing at his damp face, Tony quickly makes his way back toward his room, only to freeze and press himself against the wall when he hears the voices coming out of Daddy’s study.

Curiosity bigger than the fear of detection and punishment, Tony sneaks closer to the stream of light shining out from under the forbidden door, carefully pressing his ear against it.

“-name of a dead man, a leech feeding off an American hero’s glory!” Daddy is saying, his words cold and bitter like they always get when he has his adult drink.

Tony hates the cabinet holding all of Daddy’s special bottles with a passion, but he knows better than to touch.

“Have you ever thought about what this means for him?” Mommy bites out. “How it’s going to be for him, having no one?”

“He’ll be fine,” Daddy dismisses her. “Maybe he’s better off this way. _We_ both know soulmates aren’t what they’re made out to be.”

A hand on his shoulder and a quiet “Master Anthony,” make Tony jump and whirl around, startled, guiltily blinking up at Jarvis and wringing his hands.

He goes readily when Jarvis holds out his arms, lets himself be scooped up and carried back to his own room, chin on Jarvis’ shoulder and fingers curled into his jacket.

“Jarvis?” Tony asks as he’s being tucked in to his freshly made bed, leaning into the hand the man is stroking over his head. “My soulmate is gone, isn’t he?” When Jarvis, after a moment of hesitation, nods, he adds, “But I can be happy without him, right? I can still do stuff? Invent stuff and build stuff?”

“You most certainly can and will,” Jarvis smiles and Tony grins, satisfied.

“Good.”

***

“Shit, Stevie, you were right,” is the first thing out of Bucky’s mouth when he’s finally standing face to face with his soulmate.

Or face to shiny, red and gold mask, rather.

The only visible parts of the man are his forearms and hands, currently tapping away at a keyboard with dizzying speed. Still, Bucky doesn’t miss his own messy scrawl across the man’s wrist.

“He’s not a robot,” Steve says, trying and failing to hide his amusement. “Tony? _Tony!_ ”

Tony’s head snaps up at that, the mask following a moment later and huh, not bad, Bucky thinks to himself.

“Cap!” Tony exclaims and Bucky watches, fascinated, as the armour begins to peel itself away from his body and rearrange itself in its dedicated case on the other side of the workshop. “You’re back early!”

“It’s Saturday,” Steve explains patiently. Bucky gets the feeling this, forgetting dates, might be a regular occurrence by the fond exasperation in Steve’s voice. Teasing, he goes on, “We can come back if-“

“No!” Tony almost yells, then winces at his eagerness and buries his face in his hands with an embarrassed groan.

Bucky doesn’t blame him, he’s been a total wreck ever since Steve decided he was lucid and present enough for Steve to tell him that he knew who and where his soulmate was.

And this is ridiculous, Bucky decides suddenly, he’s waited seventy fucking years for this and he’s not adding another second to it.

“Hi,” he breathes and walks right up to Tony, cups his face between his hands, both flesh and metal, and firmly presses their lips together.

***

“Not bad for a ghost,” Tony pants half an hour later, arching his back and moaning when it makes Bucky’s softening cock shift inside him.

Bucky nuzzles his cheek, noses behind his ear and nips at his jaw before he answers, amused, “Not that much stamina for a robot,” and proceeds to swallow Tony’s outraged gasp.


	9. Tony's PTSD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Bucky being the one to notice that Tony's going through extreme PTSD/flashbacks and bringing it up to the others, who have no idea what he's talking about, so Bucky decides to help Tony himself."

_“Iron Man!“_ Steve snaps over the comms, sounding annoyed and beyond angry. _“Where do you think you’re going?”_

Tony stays silent.

Bucky can see them both from his perch on a nearby rooftop, Steve standing next to one of the ambulances, hands braced on his hips and foot tapping against the ground impatiently, and Tony already halfway down the street, his movements too jerky, even considering the weight of the damaged suit hanging off him.

“Cap, I think he’s hurt,” Bucky informs Steve, frowning and a little taken aback when that earns him several snorts from the rest of the team.

 _“He’s fine,”_ Clint insists and Bucky can almost hear him roll his eyes as he says it, _“only thing hurt is his pride.”_

Another glance down at Tony and Bucky catches him staggering, only just righting himself before he finally manages to take off, completely lacking his usual effortlessness and elegance.

“No, really, he doesn’t look so-“ Bucky starts again, only to be interrupted by Steve’s barked, _“He’s a grown man who knows where the infirmary is. Debrief in ten. For everyone.”_

Bucky knows a dismissal when he hears one, especially coming from Steve, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling a face and poking his tongue out at Steve’s retreating back.

After a moment of consideration, he opens a private comm link. “JARVIS?”

_“How may I be of service, Sergeant Barnes?”_

“What’s Tony’s status?”

JARVIS hesitates, which is answer enough already, but then he goes on with, _“Sir is physically unharmed.”_

“But there’s something wrong, isn’t there?” Bucky presses on as he disassembles his rifle, Tony only a tiny blur of red against the bright blue sky when he looks for him again. “Something happened.”

 _“Would you like me to replay the transcript from when Sir was out of radio range?”_ JARVIS asks, which is unexpected but, Bucky knows the sneaky and sometimes scarily sentient AI well enough by now, definitely relevant, if JARVIS is bothering to mention it.

He pulls the strap of his duffle over his shoulder and makes his way over to the fire escape. “Sure, go for it.”

Tony had picked up heat signatures in the basement of a collapsing corner store and rushed in, briefly breaking the connection to the team but reappearing a few minutes later with a woman and crying child clutched in his arms, which is what Bucky is listening to now.

There’s the crackling of fire and groaning of bending metal, the little boy’s wails, a lot of coughing and heavy breathing. Then the woman starts screaming, probably upon spotting Tony, desperate and terrified, before the recording cuts off. 

“What language was that?” Bucky wants to know, gesturing at the approaching Steve to wait and mouthing _I’m fine_.

 _“Pashto,”_ JARVIS explains and Bucky is sure he can make out relief in the AI’s voice, meaning he must be on the right track. _“Predominantly spoken in parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan.”_

Tony doesn’t show up to the debriefing. Bucky isn’t surprised.

***

After that, Bucky starts paying attention and taking notes. It’s embarrassing how much he’d missed before.

Granted, a lot of what people call Tony’s 'eccentricities' could, on their own, be just that; little quirks and mannerisms, general moodiness, temper tantrums or Tony having a particularly antisocial moment. Combined, however, they paint a pretty worrying picture.

Much to Bucky’s growing frustration, the others can’t or won’t see it.

“When’s the last time Tony slept?” Bucky wonders and Bruce shrugs, says, “He does that, gets caught up in his projects. He’ll sleep eventually, he can’t stay awake forever, despite what he might tell you.”

Natasha glides into a room unnoticed and Tony nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns around and spots her, snaps, “Can you not do that? Shit!” and stalks off. He says he’s fine when Bucky asks but can’t stop shaking for hours afterwards.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tony yells at Thor, glaring at the ceramic shards on the floor, ignoring Clint’s incredulous, “It was only a mug, Tony, calm down,” and Thor’s dejected apologies. He sneers and hurls his own glass against the wall on his way out. 

“Would you stop that?” Steve groans and reaches out to still Tony’s twitching hand, not noticing the resulting flinch or how Tony’s eyes keep flickering around the ballroom, from the security staff to the windows, exits and back.

“How much longer, Stark?” Fury demands and Tony whirls around, clearly embarrassed under the angry mask he’s wearing, grits out, “Maybe it would go faster if you stopped breathing down my neck all the damn time!” 

He has bad dreams, too, Bucky’s sure of it. Not that Tony tells anyone, but Bucky sees him slinking around the tower in the middle of the night, pale and shaky with dark shadows under his eyes, obviously exhausted but afraid of actually falling back asleep again.

Bucky calls the only moderately sane person he knows.

***

It takes Bucky the better part of three days to click through all the links Sam sends him, borrow - it’s _not_ stealing if he has every intention of giving it back - Steve’s library card and get some additional reading material before he feels ready to go and talk to Tony.

Who must know what he’s up to because for hours, Bucky finds it impossible to get a hold of him. Doors and elevators suddenly malfunction when Bucky tries to use them, stereos and TVs turn on all by themselves, volume up fully, and Bucky’s phone keeps ringing and then stopping just before he manages to answer it.

Eventually, Bucky utilises the vents, dropping down from the ceiling and into the workshop to Tony’s betrayed, “Clint you fucking traitor!”

Tony takes one look at the first title on the stack of now slightly crumpled printouts Bucky’s got in his hand and then he’s on Bucky, kissing him for all that he’s worth.

As far as distractions go, it’s quite effective. At least until they’re lying curled together on the couch in the corner an hour later, Tony’s face tucked into Bucky’s neck and Bucky strategically sprawled all over Tony to prevent any and all escape attempts.

“At least talk to Sam,” Bucky urges and drops a kiss to his temple when Tony goes still at that. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Total loss of face?” Tony groans, wriggling a little and then settling again with a sulky huff when he realises Bucky won’t budge, murmuring, “I don’t like shrinks.”

Bucky pulls back just far enough to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “If me and my ‘don’t let them find out you like dick or they’re going to lock you up’ mindset can handle it, so can you.”

Tony chuckles, but it’s weak. He closes his eyes, takes a deep, steadying breath and when he opens them again, they’re filled with determination, only the barest hint of uncertainty still visible. “Fine, but this was your idea, you’re coming along.”

Which translates to _please, don’t make me do this on my own_ , but that’s okay, Bucky understands just fine. “Sure,” he smiles and bends down for another kiss.

***

“Where’ve you two been all afternoon?” Clint asks from his position on the couch as Bucky and Tony walk into the common area a few days later, effectively bringing everyone’s attention to the new arrivals.

Tony fidgets but before Bucky can come up with an excuse, he lifts his chin and says, “At the VA. With Sam.”

Steve turns a confused frown on Bucky. “I didn’t know you had another appointment or else I would’ve come along.”

“ _He_ didn’t,” Tony sniffs and turns, looking over his shoulder with a too casual, “If you’ll excuse me?” and striding, there’s no other word for it, out of the room.

Five pairs of rapidly blinking eyes turn on Bucky, who shrugs. “Told you.”

He catches up to Tony in the hall, slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close, dropping a kiss on his cheek and earning himself a small but all the more genuine smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know virtually nothing about PTSD and online research can only do so much. Please ignore the inaccuracies I’m sure are somewhere in there. Symptoms I tried to include, in order of appearance; a flashback, difficulty in falling/staying asleep, exaggerated startle response, irritability/outbursts of anger, nervousness, hypervigilance, difficulty in concentrating, nightmares/night terrors.


	10. Clothes Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony stealing Bucky's clothes, especially his hoodies, whenever Bucky is on a mission or Tony has to go on a business trip. (Extra love if Bucky catches him red-handed ♥)"

It starts,as so many things do, completely by accident.

Tony wakes up naked in Bucky’s bed which, given the newness of their relationship, still sends an excited shiver down Tony’s spine every time it happens. Bucky being there next to him would be even better, but stupid missions for stupid Fury can’t be helped and at least Tony got to sleep in after a round of delightfully enthusiastic sex, so there’s that.

He yawns and stretches, allowing himself the luxury of lazing about wrapped tightly in Bucky-scented sheets until JARVIS reminds him about his own appointments and he reluctantly drags himself into the ensuite bathroom.

Walking back into Bucky’s bedroom a few minutes later, towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping, Tony doesn’t even think or hesitate before he opens what he assumes is the underwear drawer and picks out a pair of briefs.

Because Tony might enjoy getting dirty in almost every sense of the word, but putting last night’s boxers made stickiness removal device back on over his freshly showered behind is definitely not one of them.

Besides, half past ten is much too early to get yelled at by Captain America for raiding his kitchen in the nude.

Again.

For the third time.

In two weeks.

So Tony temporarily appropriates some underwear with every intention of giving them back, but then his day happens and at the end of it the briefs get thrown in with his own laundry, at which point Tony has already forgotten about them not being his anyway and when he discovers them in his own closet some days later, well.

That’s when he comes to the realisation that the idea of putting on something that is Bucky’s is a bit of a thrill, exciting, but also surprisingly comforting, giving him a feeling of being owned, of belonging.

Tony never returns the briefs.

***

Business trips are the worst, especially the ones taking Tony halfway across the globe for weeks at a time to attend meetings of the mind-numbing variety and suck up to people who hate him nearly as much as he hates them.

He can also admit - to himself, in the dark of the night, in that delirious moment right before falling asleep - that he always misses Bucky with an intensity that’s simultaneously reassuring and scaring the shit out of him.

Tony knows he’s falling, hard and fast, that he’s getting attached before they’ve even had _The Talk_ and hey, they might not be on the same page about this at all, but, ironically enough, all he really ever wants whenever he’s verging on drowning in all of this self-doubt about Bucky is, who’d have thought, Bucky.

“JARVIS,” he starts, glad to have finally come around to installing the AI in all his houses and apartments, “any chance a certain someone’s still awake?”

It’s after 3:00 am in New York, but a regular sleeping schedule is not something any of the Avengers actually follow, so he might just be in luck. And if Bucky happens to be up at this time of night there are, more likely than not, nightmares or ugly memories involved, giving Tony the perfect excuse for calling without revealing how much he needs to hear Bucky’s voice right now.

 _“Sergeant Barnes is making use of the gym.”_ Not a good sign. _“Would you like me to establish a connection, sir?”_

Tony nods, fishes out his tablet and props it up next to him on the bed, staring at the screen until it flickers to life, showing Bucky’s pale and sweaty face, his mouth curving up into the tiniest of smiles when he sees Tony.

_“Solnyshko moyo.”_

“Flatterer,” Tony accuses through a grin, immediately warmed by the mere sight of the other man, and absently rubs his sock-clad feet, a pair of Bucky’s, of course, against each other. “How are you feeling, darling?”

Bucky grimaces, ruffling his already messy hair. _“Been better.”_

“Tell me about it?” Tony offers, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders as he settles in to listen, one arm wedged under his pillow while the thumb of his free hand traces slow circles over the frame of the tablet.

He gets another smile, this one less brittle, and then Bucky takes a deep breath and starts talking.

***

“Is Ricardo on holiday?” is how Pepper greets him, eyes flickering over him once from head to toe before she fixes him with _A Look_ , clearly unimpressed. “Are you dying again?”

“You don’t even deserve these cheek kisses,” Tony sniffs as he kisses her cheeks, guiding her to their table with a hand on the small of her back. “And excuse you, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my outfit.”

Tony is a man in his mid-forties and he can dress without his stylist lamenting about complementing colours and skin tones, he’s got flawless taste, thank you very much.

Pepper gives him one of her _whatever you say, Tony_ eye-rolls so Tony ignores her until their food arrives in favour of tapping at his phone and refusing to sulk about the lack of messages from Bucky.

Undercover missions suck.

“So,” Pepper starts, all feigned innocence, once her salad has arrived, popping a piece of bread into her mouth, “how long has James been gone now?”

Tony pouts, thinks _six days, eighteen hours, four minutes_ and says, “About a week.”

Pepper’s expression softens at that and she reaches out, lightly touching his wrist. “He’s going to be fine, Tony. He’s got Steve and Natasha with him.”

Tony harrumphs at her, stabbing at his pasta.

After a moment of silence, Pepper asks, “Have you talked to him about-“

“How about some shopping after this? We could go to that boutique you like, the one on-“

“Tony, you’re being-“

“Or coffee at Salvadore’s, yeah, that-“

“You need to sit the man down and have an honest conversation, Tony, so help me God, if you interrupt me one more time I will give you back your company and make you fend for yourself, don’t think I won’t!”

“Evil woman,” Tony mutters but puts down his fork so he can hide his face behind his hands instead. “This is hard. Why is this so hard?”

“Because you’re making it harder than it needs to be,” Pepper points out with her _logic_ and _reason_ , giving Tony’s arm a gentle squeeze. “James is crazy about you, all you have to do is tell him that it’s mutual.”

Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow at her. “You can’t know that.”

“Fine, be ridiculous, see if I care,” Pepper sighs and flicks him before going back to her own meal. “And that shirt still looks much better on him than it does on you.”

“Cruel,” Tony mock-gasps and pokes his tongue out at her like the mature adult he is.

***

They make it home a full two days earlier than expected and are only a little worse for wear, the gash above Bucky’s eyebrow already healing and scabbing over.

It’s late when they arrive at the tower, Bucky cranky with exhaustion, and Steve takes one good look at him, nudges him in the side as he takes Bucky’s duffel, says, “Go,” and manhandles him back into the elevator so JARVIS can take him up to the penthouse.

Bucky finds Tony passed out on the couch and crouches down next to him, smiling at the usually vibrant, almost hyperactive man sleeping quietly and peacefully as he brushes some wayward strands of hair away from his forehead.

Tony mumbles sleepily and arches into the touch, making the blanket he had draped over himself slide down to the floor and Bucky’s breath catches in his throat.

 _Adorable_ , is the first thing that comes to Bucky’s mind at the picture of Tony wearing _his_ sweater, hood pulled up and too-long sleeves hanging over his hands, quickly followed by a unexpectedly possessive, _mine_.

“Wha-“ Tony slurs, blinking owlishly but humming happily when he recognises Bucky, immediately reaching out for him.

And Bucky goes willingly, curling around Tony and nuzzling his neck while they try to arrange themselves more comfortably. Tony is making soft, happy noises and kissing the underside of Bucky’s jaw, fingers teasing at the button of Bucky’s pants, and Bucky blurts, “God, I love you so much.”

Then he freezes because _shit_ , they haven’t discussed this yet, arms falling away limply when Tony pulls back, his face… hopeful?

“Say that again,” Tony demands, the grip he has on Bucky’s shoulders bordering on painful, and Bucky has to swallow around the lump in his throat before he can repeat, “I love you.”

There is a beat of silence before Tony all but collapses on Bucky’s chest, mouth finding Bucky’s, whispering “Thank fuck!” and “You, too. I love you, too,” between hot, needy kisses.

It’s when they’re sprawled out on the carpet in front of the open fire place some time later that Bucky remembers to ask, “You have any idea where my uniform jacket went?”

The fake snore he gets in return is answer enough.


	11. Touch and Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony translating touch into affection and love, so he feels the need to touch and hug the other a ton. Bucky's one of the only ones to understand this, and makes a point to not get annoyed with Tony's constant need for affection and touch."

“All right,“ Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together before resting them both on Bucky’s shoulders, squeezing softly as he watches the machines over the top of Bucky’s head. “Give it a try.”

Slowly and oh so carefully, Bucky curls his new metal fingers around the plastic cup, eyes flickering from what he’s doing to the numbers and diagrams floating across the screens around them. He doesn’t come close to understanding half of what he sees, something Tony had picked up on early on and made his mission to change.

Bucky still has no idea what most of the data means, but there are colours now and as long as they all stay green, everything’s working just fine.

The improved prosthetic is lighter than the monstrosity he’d been walking around with for the last seventy years, lessening the strain on Bucky’s back and spine, and there are sensors in the tips of his fingers, allowing him to handle even the most delicate of objects without constantly having to be incredibly aware of how much pressure he’s applying.

He sets the cup down and picks up the piece of tissue paper, pinching one edge between thumb and forefinger, and drapes it over the cup without causing a single tear or upending the cup.

Grinning, Bucky tips his head back to glance up at Tony who’s looking back at him with an equally excited expression. He bends down to press his forehead against Bucky’s for a moment, whooping loudly, before he’s bouncing away to tap at one of the many keyboards, babbling a mile a minute and occasionally humming to himself.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, coming to stand by Bucky’s side and help with removing the sticky pads and cables from his arm. “He gets like this sometimes. It can be a little much.”

Bucky frowns. “Like what?”

“You know,” Steve sighs, gesturing awkwardly, “tactile. With the touching.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky shrugs, smiling a little at the way Tony is absently petting one of the bots while he’s working, leaning into it and rubbing at its claw-head. “I don’t mind.”

And Bucky really doesn’t. For a very long time, the only physical contact in Bucky’s life had been given to him with the intention to hurt and punish. This easy, casual way of interacting with people that Tony has is the exact opposite of the cruel treatment of the previous decades.

It’s something Bucky appreciates immensely, basking in the warmth and comfort of having another human being close just for closeness’ sake.

Steve eyes him dubiously. “If you say so,” he allows eventually. “But if it-“

“I won’t do anything that’s makin’ me uncomfortable,” Bucky parrots his therapist, waving dismissively. “Yeah, I got that. I’m fine, stop your worryin’.”

Bucky and Tony communicate through touches and gestures and the others can think whatever they want about it, for the two of them it works and that’s all the encouragement Bucky needs.

***

Tony’s hair is ridiculously soft and fluffy right after he wakes up and Bucky enjoys the sensation of running his fingers, flesh or metal, through it and messing it up even more when he hands a shuffling, bleary-eyed Tony his first cup of coffee.

***

“Not now, Tony,” Bruce mumbles absently and ducks under Tony’s outstretched arm to go and retrieve one of his vials.

Bucky watches Tony’s face crumple, just for a moment, before his expression smoothes out and he turns to leave, Bucky hot on his heels after throwing a nasty glare at the back of Bruce’s head.

***

“My circulation is crap,” Tony explains as he wedges his freezing toes under Bucky’s thigh, nestling back against the arm of the couch and laughing at the glare Bucky sends his way.

***

He sees Tony’s hands twitch toward Natasha in an aborted hug, then fall back against his sides.

When Tony walks by him, Bucky snatches his wrist and pulls him close, curling around Tony and pressing a kiss into his hair.

***

Bucky is stirring the sauce in one of the pots Bruce pointed him to when he hears footsteps behind him on the kitchen tiles, followed a moment later by a pair of arms being wrapped around his waist.

“Smells good,” Tony hums, resting his forehead between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “What’s for dinner?”

“Some curry thing, gotta ask Bruce for specifics,” Bucky says and brushes his free hand over Tony’s wrist, giving his hand a friendly pat.

Tony makes an approving noise, snags a piece of pepper and wanders off again.

***

“Stark, I swear-“ Clint snaps, batting Tony’s hands away from where they’re trying to position Clint’s fingers on the tablet. “I can do it on my own, just leave it.”

Under the table, Bucky rubs his foot up and down Tony’s calf.

***

There’s a smudge of engine oil on Tony’s nose and Bucky reaches out without hesitation, rubbing at it with his sleeve before drawing Tony into a brief hug and smacking a loud, wet kiss on his cheek, grinning at the exaggeratedly disgusted face Tony pulls in return.

***

“Behave,” Steve whispers during debrief and shrugs Tony’s head off his shoulder, levelling him with his best disappointed look.

Bucky reaches out and tugs Tony to lean against him instead.

***

“You’re a dirty cheater, Barnes!” Tony complains and elbows Bucky in the ribs, yelping when Bucky pushes back and he topples over onto his side, shrieking, “Abuse!”

“All’s fair in love and Mario Kart,” Bucky counters as he throws a blue shell and watches Tony’s Princess Peach flounder and nearly fall of a bridge.

Tony aims a kick in his general direction, squawking when Bucky catches his foot and digs his fingers into the sole. “Asshole,” he pants through his wheezing giggles, hooking the foot under Bucky’s arm as soon as he gets it free and tugging, which ends with Bucky sprawled all over Tony and both of them grunting and laughing, Bucky’s face tucked comfortably into Tony’s neck.

***

“Dumbass,” Bucky says shakily as he comes to perch on the edge of the hospital bed, gently cradling Tony’s battered and bruised face between his palms. “Don’t do shit like that!”

Tony nods guiltily, winces at the movement but still stretches to meet Bucky halfway when he moves in to bring their mouths together.

Bucky sighs against Tony’s lips and Tony moans and then they practically spring apart, looks of wide-eyed shock on both their faces.

It’s Tony who recovers first. “Did we just-“

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky blinks and Tony frowns, but then Tony makes grabby hands at Bucky and Bucky nearly falls into Tony’s arms, brushing his lips over Tony’s cheeks and his forehead and his eyelids and the tip of his nose before Tony tugs him back down for a proper kiss, absolutely no words needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my other winteriron one-shot [The New and Improved Vivian Ward](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3585618). It has stripper!Bucky, that's totally worth having a (long and leering) look at.


	12. Kindergarten Teacher and Single Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Tony is a single dad and bucky is the teacher or vice versa. Every Fandom needs this prompt."

“You gotta be kiddin‘ me,“ Bucky whines, displaying the exact same lack of maturity he usually accuses his young charges of, although one good look at Principal Coulson’s perfectly serious expression is enough to gauge that no, the stoic man has not suddenly turned into a joker over night.

Which is just perfect; some snobby, paranoid businessman’s kid plus a lurking bodyguard a mere few weeks before the end of the semester, stirring things up again now that the excited kindergarteners have finally settled into the school routine.

Slouching down in his chair, Bucky grouches, “Didn’t even know the guy had a kid.”

Not that it’s much of a stretch, what with the man’s string of flings and affairs and generally outrageous lifestyle.

“He does and you will meet him Monday morning,” Principal Coulson dismisses, attention already back on the paperwork in front of him. “Which is why I need you to come in early.”

Bucky groans.

***

When Bucky walks into his classroom after the weekend, it’s Mr Stark himself and not some kind of nanny or butler sitting at one of the tiny desks and trying to console the crying boy in his lap.

Which is a nice surprise, but also makes Bucky feel like a total heel for having complained to Steve about absentee socialite parents for a good few hours during football on Sunday afternoon.

And then Mr Stark hears him and looks up and _wow_ , how is it fair that the man apparently not only is much less of an asshole than Bucky thought, but also just as gorgeous in person as he is on all those magazine covers?

Realising he’s ogling the man and not being all that subtle about it, Bucky shakes himself and approaches the desk to take a seat opposite Mr Stark and his son, extending his hand and smiling in what he prays is a friendly but not leering fashion. “Mr Stark, my name is James Barnes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Mr Stark says, then winces and pulls an apologetic face when his son keeps clinging to him and effectively preventing him from accepting Bucky’s proffered hand. Kissing the top of the still sniffling kid’s head, he continues, “Sorry, he’s a little nervous. He’s not so great with new people.”

“First days are scary,” Bucky allows, waving when the boy chances a quick peek up at him, “it’s perfectly all right.”

The kid’s eyes grow huge at the movement and Mr Stark seems to realise what’s about to happen a split second before it does, opening his mouth to intervene, but is beaten to it by the boy exclaiming excitedly, “My daddy makes robot arms just like the one you have!”

And that might just be the sweetest, most innocent way anyone has ever started a conversation about Bucky’s prosthetic, so while Mr Stark, now finally freed as his son is leaning closer to Bucky, facepalms and mouths _sorry_ over and over again, Bucky can’t help but find the whole situation incredibly endearing.

“Your dad must be pretty smart, huh?” Bucky chuckles, resolutely ignoring the fact that he’s slid right into flirting territory, instead focusing on the enthusiastically nodding boy. “Do you think you could tell me your name now?”

The kid chews his bottom lip for a moment, then straightens his back and lifts his chin, voice only a little wobbly when he declares, “Peter Stark. I’m four years old and when I’m all grown up, I’m going to be an engineer and invent stuff with my daddy.”

“Well, it looks like you’re exactly the person I need, Peter,” Bucky smiles, gesturing over at the playing area and the boxes filled with differently shaped and coloured blocks. “How about you show me how to build something really cool with those?”

“A spaceship?” Peter suggests as he climbs off his father’s legs and practically bounces over to the toys, completely ignoring the two adults in favour of setting out everything he needs for his new project. “Spaceships are super awesome.”

Bucky agrees and promises to be right there before turning back to Mr Stark, whose eyes are flickering from Bucky to Peter and back with a mixture of astonishment and relief.

It’s a good look on him.

And Bucky is so screwed.

***

Peter, albeit on the quiet and reserved side, quickly makes some new friends and manages to find his place in Bucky’s group of kids, while Bucky himself is just glad that the bodyguard keeps mostly out of sight and doesn’t freak out or distract his charges too much.

His crush on Mr Stark is still going strong, especially with the man being the one to drop Peter off every morning and take a few minutes to converse with Bucky, all playful smiles and cute dimples.

The charming asshole.

Everything is going swimmingly, so it takes Bucky a moment to notice the raised voices coming from one of the tables and glance up from his preparations for next week’s lessons to catch Peter, his best friend Gwen and another boy in what looks like a standoff about to escalate.

“What’s going on here?” he demands as he walks over, Peter staring down at his hands while Gwen glares at the other boy who glowers back just as hard.

“Harry was saying mean things about Peter’s drawing,” Gwen informs him gravely, making Harry let out a noise of angry protest.

“He’s doing it wrong!” Harry accuses and Gwen is quick to yell back that he’s stupid and has no idea what he’s talking about before Bucky inserts himself between them, ordering everyone to calm down again.

Peter stays silent, lower lip wobbling dangerously, so Bucky kneels down and puts a gentle hand on his back.

To Harry he says, “It’s Friday afternoon and you know what that means, don’t you?”

“Free choice period,” Harry mutters sulkily.

“Exactly,” Bucky agrees, “and everyone’s allowed to draw whatever they like-“

“But he said he was drawing his family and he didn’t even put in a Mom!” Harry exclaims incredulously, only faltering when Bucky pins him with a stern look.

Straightening back up, Bucky claps his hands to get all the kids’ attention. “All right, guys, who remembers the assignment we did about families?”

Almost everyone raises their hands, looking intrigued by the sudden change of schedule.

“Very good. And what did we learn about different kinds of families?”

“Kyle has two moms,” Jennifer pipes up, pointing at the nodding boy next to her. “And my mom and my dad don’t live together, but my mom married Stan, so now I have a mom and a dad and a Stan.”

Slowly, with the help of all the kids, they go through every variation of family they know with Bucky supplying some of the words and explanations.

By the time the bell rings, Harry and Peter are giggling together about something or other and when Bucky makes Harry apologise, he does so without complaint and seems genuinely sorry and contrite.

Bucky carefully files away the information that there is no current Mrs or other Mr Stark and then, after seeing everyone off to the bus, calls Steve to whine about how tragically unfair his life is.

***

The last day before the summer is always bittersweet and by the end of it, Bucky has had to force down tears on more than one occasion. He’s happy to see his kids move on to first grade but simultaneously crushed to have them leave.

Not to mention a certain father he isn’t going to see regularly anymore now.

Parents are milling about and children are saying heartfelt goodbyes when the man in question sidles up to Bucky, smiling and waving the piece of paper he’s got in his hand.

“Pete made this for you but got cold feet at the last minute,” Mr Stark chuckles as he presents Bucky with the picture.

It’s the spaceship he and Peter built on Peter’s first day and, embarrassingly enough, Bucky feels himself getting choked up all over again, only getting out a weak, “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ ,” Mr Stark says, suddenly serious. “Pete, his first two years before I got him were rough, didn’t exactly help with building up his confidence. He’s really come out of his shell since starting here, so, yeah. Thanks.”

As if to prove a point, Peter comes barrelling around a corner with Gwen and Harry in tow, all three of them laughing and shrieking and then darting off again as Mr Stark wanders back over to them.

He’s almost by the door when Bucky flips the picture and frowns, calling after him, “That doesn’t look like Peter’s.”

Mr Stark turns, glances down at the number on the paper and then up at Bucky. “No, that’s mine,” he grins, bites his lower lip and adds, with a cheeky wink, “Call me sometime.”


	13. Asexual Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine tony coming out to bucky as asexual and it's really emotional and scary for him."

Tony is sitting at the bar in the communal kitchen, all rumpled and adorable in a pair of sweatpants and a too big hoodie, blinking blearily and yawning around his coffee, when Bucky decides that today is the day.

They have been dancing around each other for ages with their flirty banter and casual affection and Bucky, while watching Tony rub at his eyes all uncoordinated and still lazy with sleep, comes to the sudden realisation that he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

That he doesn’t _have_ to wait; there’s nothing but their own nervousness keeping them from having something more, something good.

Determination fuelling him, Bucky walks across the room and carefully takes the cup out of Tony’s hand, sets it down on the bar and inserts himself between Tony’s legs, one hand on his waist and the other cupping his cheek as he brings their mouths together.

Tony freezes, for just a moment, but then he sighs and opens up for Bucky, sucks Bucky’s bottom lip between his own and gives it a playful nip, threads his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tugs softly, humming contentedly against Bucky’s mouth.

And Bucky presses back, strokes the sensitive skin behind Tony’s ear, tilts his head to the side for easier access and-

“Stop,” Tony pants and pushes at Bucky, voice going all high and panicky, eyes wide and face crumpling. “Stop, I can’t- we can’t- it’s not-“ he stammers, quickly slipping out of his seat the moment Bucky steps back, helplessly flailing his arms and upending his cup in the process. “Fuck! I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t.”

And then Tony runs, practically flees, leaving Bucky to stare after him in worried confusion.

***

It’s awkward between them after that.

They’re civil enough when the situation warrants them being in the same room, but there are no more evenings in Tony’s workshop, no more tinkering together, no more whispering and giggling about bad science in films during movie nights, no more leaning into each other without thinking about it, no more play fighting when blue shells are used in Mario Kart, no more Mario Kart, no more anything.

It’s torture and makes Bucky feel like an asshole and an absolute idiot for reading the signs so wrong, but apologising proves an impossibility with Tony avoiding him like the plague outside of team meetings and debriefs, and actually having the goddamned house on his side, too.

What finally gives Bucky his chance to say his piece is a fight against some wannabe villain that ends with Tony, unharmed but understandably moody, trapped in his suit under some debris which, while not ideal, will have to do.

He’s only feeling a little guilty about using Tony’s predicament to get a word in.

“This is ridiculous,” Bucky sighs as he digs, lugging chunks of cement out of the way. “I just wanna apologise, tell you that I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says and it’s hard to tell through the armour, but Bucky thinks he sounds sad. “We’re okay.”

Bucky snorts. “We’re obviously not okay. You can’t even look at me anymore.”

“That’s not true-“

“I understand if it’ll take time, but I need you to know that I’m sorry, all right?” Bucky interrupts, shoving half a wall off Tony’s legs. “I’m sorry, I thought we had something, that you felt the same, and you don’t, that’s fine. I can back off, I _will_ back off. I’ll get over it.” Which is a total lie, but Bucky falling for unattainable people really isn’t Tony’s problem. “Please, Tony, tell me what I can do to make it easier, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes. You’re my friend an' I don’t wanna lose you over some stupid misunderstanding or-“

“Oh, God, just, shut up!” Tony groans and the faceplate snaps up, revealing a surprisingly sheepish expression. “It’s me, not you.”

Bucky raises a sceptical eyebrow. “I mighta been born almost a century ago, but I’m not stupid, you know. I know that’s what you say if you-“

“It’s not your fault,” Tony interrupts again, insistent. “You did nothing wrong, you didn’t read anything wrong, I liked what we did but I’m- I’m- I can’t.”

“Why not?” Bucky frowns, poking at Tony’s gloved hand and smiling a little when Tony laces their fingers and squeezes. “Was I going too fast? We can take it slower, I can do that, if that’s what you need.”

Tony shakes his head at that, closes his eyes with a weak, self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s not about that, believe me, it’s- it’s my fault, okay? I just can’t, it won’t work.”

“I don’t understand,” Bucky says, lost, but Tony shrugs him off and gets up.

He looks at Bucky, considers for a few seconds and then he moves in close, brushes a brief, chaste kiss over Bucky’s cheek before stepping back and firing up his suit, taking off with one last, strained smile.

***

The last thing Bucky expects when he hears the knock on his door later that night is Tony standing there, hair a wild mess and refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes as he mumbles, “I owe you an explanation.”

Bucky gestures him inside and they settle on the couch, Bucky waiting patiently while Tony fidgets and squirms, tense and clearly uncomfortable.

It’s instinctual to reach out and try to comfort him, but Bucky pulls his hand back at the last moment, unsure if the touch would be welcome.

They sit in silence for several minutes until Tony, apparently fed up with himself, throws up his hands and blurts, “I don’t like sex.”

“I-“ Bucky says dumbly, then, “What?”

“I don’t like sex,” Tony repeats, sagging back into the cushions and throwing an arm over his eyes, his next words leaving him in a nervous rush. “I’m asexual, not sexually attracted to anyone, male or female or otherwise, never have been, never will be. Yes, I’m physically capable of having sexual intercourse and I have slept with people before, mostly because I thought it was expected of me and no, I didn’t enjoy it. It’s not a phase, I’ve been like this my whole life. I wasn’t abused as a child, it’s natural, some people simply aren’t sexually attracted to anyone, it has nothing to do with ‘meeting the right person’ and I’m not a sociopath, I feel things, I can experience a shitload of emotions and I-”

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky chokes out, one hand clamped over his mouth against the sudden wave of nausea, able to feel tears of guilt and shame prickle in the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know, I would never have- I’m fuckin’ disgusting, shit, I’m sorry, Tony, I didn’t know, I’m sorry-“

He’s not looking at Tony and flinches when Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, scooting away from him only to have Tony pull him into a hug and tuck Bucky’s head under his chin. “Hey, no, it’s okay-“

“It’s not okay!” Bucky exclaims angrily. “How can you say that? I forced myself on you and-“

“That’s enough,” Tony says firmly, moving back just enough so he can properly look at Bucky. “You didn’t do anything I wasn’t one hundred percent on board with, I wouldn’t have let you, okay?”

“But you said you didn’t like-“

“Sex, yeah,” Tony sighs, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. “And I don’t. Like, at all. But I’m a sensual person, tactile. There’s nothing wrong in my book with touching or kissing or holding hands or cuddling. And I’ll forever deny it if you tell anyone I used those words, just FYI.”

Somewhat tentatively, Bucky winds his own arms around Tony, rubs their cheeks together, presses a shy kiss to Tony’s temple. “So, can we try again? Start over?”

That makes Tony pull back, his mouth working furiously without actually producing any sounds for a few moments before he clears his throat and asks, “What exactly is it you want?”

“You,” Bucky answers, honest and without hesitation. “In whatever way you’ll have me. Dating. A relationship, maybe, someday? If that’s what you want, too.”

“I won’t sleep with you. Ever,” Tony says, slow as if explaining it to a small child, narrowing his eyes at Bucky when Bucky nods. “I won’t change my mind and you’ll get frustrated, believe me, you will, it happens every time. You’ll think it’s a reflection of my- my feelings for you, you’ll think that you’re not good enough and, eventually, you’ll realise that you’ve wasted all that time with someone who won’t put out and you’ll resent me and we’ll break up and it’s going to be weird and-“

Kissing Tony to shut him up works perfectly. “I’m not sayin’ it’s not different than what I’m used to,” Bucky allows, cradling Tony’s face in his hands and nudging their noses together. “But it’s you I love, not your dick.”

Tony’s eyes grow wide at that admission and for a second, Bucky is afraid that it was too much, too fast, but then Tony’s whole face softens and he leans in again for another kiss.

“I’ll say stupid things,” Bucky whispers against Tony’s lips, “ask stupid questions, ones you’ve probably heard a million times already.”

“Definitely,” Tony agrees, squawking in mock-outrage when Bucky pinches his side in retaliation.

“But if I do, it’s because I want to learn. How to be what you want. What you need. It won’t be perfect,” he stresses, letting himself fall backward and tugging Tony along with him, curling himself around Tony and burying his face in Tony’s neck. “I’ll make mistakes because I don’t know any better and you’ll be angry and yell at me, but I want to try. I really, really want to try, Tony.”

“Sap,” Tony says, but he tangles his legs with Bucky’s and Bucky can feel him smile against the side of his head, which is answer enough.


	14. Steven Anthony Edward Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Personal prompt: "Established Tony/Bucky relationship. Bucky and Steve accidentally discover that Tony wasn’t always called Tony. It gets emotional and Bucky comforts Tony by being his normal, crude self."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by (but not entirely following) this sad [headcanon](http://musicalluna.tumblr.com/post/108919455808/sad-headcanon-time-when-tony-was-born-his).
> 
> Also, guys, remember the [HYDRA ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3273581/chapters/7755887) a few chapters back? I got a lot of responses from people who said they'd like to see more in that particular universe and, well, good news everyone! 
> 
> I just signed up for the [Winteriron Bang](http://winterironbang.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr (if you're an artist or author, go check it out) and I will be using that HYDRA prompt as a basis/inspiration for my submission. So you'll get at least 15k words of it by July.

Apparently, being a genius, billionaire, ex-playboy philanthropist does not automatically save a person from falling victim to faulty plumbing, rusty pipes and wading through a cellar filled knee high with disgustingly warm and suspiciously brown water.

“This is no fun,” Tony whines, glaring sullenly at the room full of junk he was more than happy to leave behind when he moved out of his parents’ mansion and then completely forget about for lots of complicated emotional reasons.

Bucky levels him with an unimpressed look. “Yeah, must be really hard sittin’ there lookin’ pretty while we haul all your crap around.”

“Mm, yes, talk dry sarcasm to me,” Tony moans exaggeratedly, batting his lashes at his husband and ignoring Steve’s groans of protest. “And you love this pretty face.”

“Asshole,” Bucky mumbles, a little annoyed but at least eighty percent fond, so it’s all good.

Tony is flipping through some old MIT exams when Steve swears, a rare enough occurrence to immediately warrant Tony’s attention, and loses his footing on the slippery wooden stairs, rescued only by Bucky quickly dropping what he’s doing and steadying him with a hand on his back.

The box Steve was carrying goes flying, as do the papers that were in it, scattering everywhere.

“Shit,” Bucky pants, clapping Steve on the back, “you okay?”

“This is no fun,” Steve mimics Tony’s earlier complaint, voice a little shaky but teasing enough to let everyone know he’s fine.

The two of them start gathering the papers and it only takes a few seconds before Steve is fully recovered, straightening up with a huge, ill-boding grin on his face. “This is the single most adorable thing I have seen in my entire life,” he declares as he waves around the drawing he’s holding.

Momentarily forgetting the mess on the floor, Tony jumps down from the crate he’s sitting on, stalking over to the giggling super soldiers and grabbing for the picture, only to have Steve hold it up over his head, way out of reach.

“Very mature, Rogers,” Tony snaps, shoving a hand into Steve’s face because he’s not above playing dirty. “Give me that!”

“No!” Bucky shrieks through his laughter, sliding both his arms around Tony’s waist to manhandle him back. Which is sort of sexy, but also very inconvenient right now. “Lemme see, Stevie!”

And Steve, the utter bastard, flips the thing over to reveal himself, drawn in Tony’s shaky five-year-old hand, standing proud with his shield and a tiny Tony sidekick, including domino mask, beaming up at him.

“I hate you,” Tony grumbles, then cranes his neck to glower at Bucky and adds, “I want a divorce.”

“Oh, hush, you big baby,” Bucky chuckles, but he leans down kiss the frown between Tony’s brows, so he’s forgiven.

Mostly.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts Tony’s fantasies of how exactly Bucky can make this up to him later, preferably with a minimum amount of clothing, “what’s this?”

Tony’s gaze follows the line of his finger, all colour draining from his face when he sees what Steve’s pointing at.

Of course his precocious younger self had to go and proudly sign the damn thing with his full name and age, a wobbly _Steven Anthony Edward Stark, age 5 ¾_ scribbled onto the bottom of the page.

“Were you-“ Steve begins, then has to cut himself off and swallow before he continues. “Were you named after me?”

“How come I’m married to you and didn’t know that?” Bucky exclaims incredulously and throws up his hands, providing Tony with the perfect opportunity to slink away and make a hasty retreat for the stairs.

He’s almost at the top, already able to taste freedom, when Bucky’s hand closes around his upper arm, forehead wrinkled in worry. “Tony?” he questions.

“Fine,” Tony spits, wrenching himself out of his husband’s grasp. “Yes, Steve, I was named after you, the greatest man to ever live, idol of millions, the perfect human. And no, honey,” he sneers at Bucky, “you wouldn’t know because it’s not my official name anymore. I wasn’t good enough of a person to carry the name, so Howard had it changed. For my sixth birthday, in fact, although I doubt he was aware of the date’s significance.”

With that, Tony turns and storms away without a backward glance, stomping into the first empty room he finds and slamming the door shut after himself.

***

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, a good half hour later, coming to crouch where Tony is wedged between a desk and the wall, threading his fingers into Tony’s hair and giving it a gentle tug. “We’ve finished carrying everything upstairs. And we’re sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Tony sighs, allowing Bucky to reel him in and tucking his head under his husband’s chin. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

Bucky makes a disbelieving noise but doesn’t push the topic. Instead he says, “Steve feels really bad about the whole thing. He’s standing outside, too chickenshit to come in and apologise.”

“Hey!” Steve protests, eliciting a weak but genuine laugh from Tony.

The door opens again and Steve steps inside, guilt written all over his face. “I’m real sorry, Tony.”

Tony dismisses him with a wave. “Stop with the kicked puppy look, we’re good. Not your fault, remember?”

Steve opens his mouth, about to say something else, but then he thinks better of it and bites his lower lip, nodding.

“Man,” Bucky whistles into the ensuing silence, “I’m so glad right now that I punched Howard in the nose that one time.”

Steve snorts and buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, while Tony chokes on a laugh, pulling back to press a wet, smacking kiss to his husband’s lips. “Details,” he grins, “I need all the details!”

***

Tony finds the now framed drawing standing on the mantle in Steve and Bucky’s living room - between a shot of Bucky with his arm around Tony’s shoulders and his nose buried in Tony’s hair, and one of Steve and Tony mid-discussion, both gesticulating wildly but smiling happily - a couple of weeks later.

It doesn’t magically erase little Tony’s disappointment and anger, but it’s a nice gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of you guys watch Shameless? 
> 
> (If not, you really should.) 
> 
> If you do, I wrote a multi chapter Ian/Mickey fic called [Love Is For Suckers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3726019) which I'm currently posting (one to two chapters a week). It would mean a lot if you could go and check it out and maybe leave some feedback.


	15. Parenting AJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony and Bucky as parents. Everyone is surprised to see Bucky's the fun parent and Tony's the strict one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly one of my favourite prompts so far. I'm actually thinking about using AJ (and everything that's happening in this story) as part of my [Holding On](http://archiveofourown.org/series/155609) series later on. Because AJ is just too cute *melts*

Tony is shifting anxiously and shooting worried glances over at Steve every few seconds, only to quickly avert his eyes and actually look back at the people he’s in conversation with whenever Steve catches him doing it.

In his lap, AJ gurgles happily and clumsily grabs at Steve’s hands, letting out a string of high, contented noises when Steve rubs a finger over his tummy.

“Any minute now,” Steve tells the baby, amused, “your Daddy is going to storm over here in an overprotective huff, just you watch.”

He brushes some of the soft, downy hair away from AJ’s forehead, smiling at the way it makes the boy wrinkle his nose and rapidly blink his eyes. At eight weeks, they’re still a deep blue, but Steve knows that Bucky, the sap, is hoping that Tony’s genes will push through and turn them the same warm honey-brown.

Tony chances another look in Steve’s direction and Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, making Tony frown down at his shoes instead.

AJ kicks his chubby legs and Steve nods, very seriously. “Yes, I know. He’s being silly.”

Careful to support his neck and head - and still amazed at the sheer tininess of his charge - Steve brings AJ up to rest against his shoulder, gently stroking one hand up and down his back while AJ coos and wriggles excitedly.

“He tends to get ridiculous about the people he cares about,” Steve explains, pressing a kiss to the side of his godson’s head. “Your Papa acts like it drives him mad, but he secretly loves it.”

“Ah-ah,” AJ babbles around the collar of Steve’s shirt he’s got crammed into his mouth, arms flailing as if to emphasise his point. “Uh-ah.”

Before Steve can answer that, Tony throws up his free hand, puts down his glass and exclaims, “That’s it, enough, Steve time is over!”

He stalks over to the couch, ignoring Clint’s sniggers and Bucky rolling his eyes at him, and makes impatient grabby motions for his son. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

“Seven minutes and twenty-two seconds,” Bucky supplies, placing a hand on his husband’s waist as Steve transfers the baby into Tony’s waiting arms. “A new record.”

“Mock me all you want, but don’t come crying to me when your own child doesn’t recognise you,” Tony sniffs, instinctively falling into ‘baby dance’ mode, swaying slowly from side to side.

Bucky snorts at that, pulling Tony closer against his side so he can nuzzle Tony’s cheek. “Idiot,” he smiles fondly, reaching out with his free hand to lace his fingers with Tony’s over AJ’s back.

“Hey,” Tony protests, jerking his chin at Steve, “I’m not the one having a one-sided discussion with an infant.”

“Oh-oh!” AJ shrieks.

“Absolutely,” Steve agrees.

***

“You’re supposed to catch him!”

“Tony, he’s fine-“

“This time, what about next time, huh? He could, I don’t know, break his neck or-“

“He’s sitting on a mat. A baby mat. Designed specifically to be soft and cushiony and keep babies from breaking their necks while they learn how to sit up without their parents catching them when they fall over.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t at least try to catch him!”

“Ooh, ah!”

“See? Even your son thinks you’re being stupid.”

“James, I swear-“

Steve quietly backs away from the door.

***

“No!” AJ cries, turning his face away from the spoon of pureed carrots, big fat crocodile tears running down his bright red cheeks. “No!”

“Yes,” Tony insists and nudges the spoon closer again, sighing when AJ smacks it out of his hand and sends it flying.

While he’s busy rummaging through the kitchen for a new, clean one, Bucky uses a napkin to scoop up the rest of the carrots, balling it up and tossing it to Steve when Tony walks back into the room.

“All right,” Tony says, sees the now empty plate, briefly narrows his eyes at Bucky but then shrugs, lifting AJ out of his highchair and unclasping his bib. “All done, great job, buddy.”

“Done,” AJ parrots, all sunshiny smiles again, and happily pats Tony’s cheeks.

Tony kisses his forehead, bouncing him a little to make him giggle. “Nap time, say bye-bye to Papa and Steve.”

“No!” AJ whines despairingly, turning pleading eyes on Bucky and, when that doesn’t work, Steve, but eventually resigns himself to his faith and gives a sullen wave over Tony’s shoulder as he’s carried out of the room.

“Interesting parenting technique,” Steve remarks and, when Bucky just shrugs and grins, chucks the carrot napkin at his head.

***

“It’s not two yet.”

Steve glances up at the clock reading 1:54 pm, then turns an incredulous look on Tony. “He woke up five minutes ago, I wasn’t going to make him stay in bed for another ten.”

“He has a schedule,” Tony starts, gearing up for one of his lectures, “for a reason.”

“I don’t think ten minutes will make all that much of a difference,” Steve tries and knows immediately that that was the wrong thing to say when Tony’s face morphs into an angry frown.

It’s an expression Steve has seen him turn on particularly stubborn board members or obnoxious reporters before and he most definitely does not want to be on the receiving end of it.

“Last week, Clint gave him two cookies before dinner even though you told AJ to wait until after,” he blurts out.

There’s a crash from the kitchen, followed by a betrayed, “Cap, you fucking rat!”

Down on the carpet, surrounded by his blocks, AJ gasps, eyes growing wide.

“Don’t swear in front of my child, Barton,” Tony says, his voice carrying that faux calmness everyone knows means trouble, and Steve almost feels a little bad for Clint.

Almost.

***

“He’s crazy, Stevie,” Bucky groans, leaning back against the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. “I’m married to a crazy person. An insanely hot crazy person, but still. Crazy.”

“Goes well with all your drama,” Steve teases, earning himself a cushion to the face and a best friend draping himself across his legs with an exaggeratedly whiny wail. Poking him in the ticklish spot on his stomach just to see him squirm, Steve adds, “You’ll sort it out. You always do.”

Bucky glares up at him, unimpressed. “He yelled at me for a solid twenty minutes, Steve. Twenty minutes! Nothing even happened!”

“AJ got hurt, I’m sure he was just scared and overreacted a little,” Steve reasons.

“But that’s just it!” Bucky exclaims, annoyed. “He isn’t hurt, not really. He’s got a scraped knee, for fuck’s sake! He didn’t even cry, didn’t even _notice_ until we were back here and I was gettin’ him ready for his bath.”

Steve gives a sympathetic hum, perfectly aware that nothing more is needed from him while Bucky rants and gets everything out of his system.

“The kid’s six years old, I’d be worried if he didn’t do clumsy shit like fall off swings every now and again. Hell, at that age, I practically was a walkin’, talkin’ bruise. It’s normal, it’s _healthy_. And I’ve seen a picture of Tony with his eyebrows singed off from when he was even younger than that, so it’s not like he can talk, he was no better.”

“Do you remember the summer you decided you absolutely had to climb that heap of junk behind the Keller house and broke your arm?” Steve asks, nudging Bucky in the back with one knee and grinning at the proud smile that steals over Bucky’s face.

“Well, I made it to the top before I fell, so I’m calling it a success,” he declares, wagging his eyebrows. “’Sides, it was all your fault anyway. You dared me.”

Steve snorts and flicks cheek. “No, what I said was _Bucky, don’t climb that, you’re gonna fall_ which you took as a dare because you’re an idiot.”

“Punk,” Bucky sniffs and shoves his hand into Steve’s face, laughing when Steve drops him off the couch in retaliation.

Which is when Tony peeks his head through the door, AJ on his hip and expression sheepish but turning fond when he sees Bucky sprawled over the floor, still trying to catch his breath.

“Papa!” AJ squeals, bounding over and flopping down on Bucky’s chest as soon as Tony sets him down, squirming and giggling when Bucky starts peppering kisses all over his face.

“How’s your knee, Sashka?” he asks and AJ makes a _meh_ gesture with his hand, unconcerned as he wriggles around to find a more comfortable position.

Bucky hugs him close for a moment, then holds out a hand to Tony, beckoning him over with a small smile and tugging him into their cuddle pile the moment he’s within reach.

Steve quietly tells JARVIS to take a picture.

***

“Papa, you should have turned left, the school’s that way,” AJ says, confused, his face pressed against the window.

Bucky and Steve share an amused look.

“Aw, man,” Bucky sighs, acting disappointed. “That’s too bad.”

“You know what’s this way, though?” Steve asks, glancing back at AJ with a mischievous smile. “The Bronx Zoo.”

There is a moment of silence and then the car is filled with excited screaming.

“Are you for real?” AJ demands, practically vibrating in his seat with giddy excitement. “Really for real?”

“Yeah, squirt, we are,” Bucky laughs.

“Happy birthday, pal,” Steve chuckles, turning in his seat to ruffle AJ’s hair.

“You’re the best!” AJ beams, but he’s eyeing them both knowingly. “Daddy is going to be _so_ mad.”

“Worth it,” Bucky and Steve decide in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AJ = Alexander James. Because a Stark-Barnes needs a strong name. And, let’s face it, Tony is a huge softie and definitely wants his son to carry his husband’s name.


	16. Tiberius Stone Is a Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "imagine Tony having been in an abusing relation ship in his early to mid twenties with Tiberius Stone. Bucky knows this since Tony told him, nothing in detail just that Tiberius was abusive. so one day they're at a gala that the Avengers have to be at because of charity and guess who's there. Tiberius Stone. Tony would have been fine if Tiberius hadn't cornered him and got into his space, trying to get him into a relationship again. Bucky sees this, comes to Tony's rescue and scares Tiberius off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Ty is a pushy, creepy but also oblivious asshole who doesn’t notice Tony’s discomfort, which leads to some dub-con touching that gets interrupted pretty quickly. You’re free to imagine what would have happened if there hadn’t been an interruption, but in my head, Ty simply got frustrated and stormed off.
> 
> Wonderful art has been created for this ficlet by the even more wonderful [kamaete](http://kamaete.tumblr.com/). Links can be found directly in the text or here: [(1)](https://40.media.tumblr.com/8a4a3694cf3ecdead60b632e9784c2aa/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio2_1280.png), [(2)](https://36.media.tumblr.com/ce6784257dc1321c812748e175ad5848/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio4_1280.png), [(3)](https://40.media.tumblr.com/97924e6d10bcd2bd49eeab0524e523f2/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio3_1280.png), [(4)](https://40.media.tumblr.com/7c1a365561aec1f7817d6b385a98dbae/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio1_1280.png)

With a happy little sigh, Tony hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder and slides his hands higher up his back, smiling against the soft skin of Bucky’s neck when he feels Bucky’s arms tighten around him in return.

Bucky kisses Tony’s temple and nuzzles the top of his head while he hums along to the soft melody drifting over from the stage, the two of them swaying together gently, slowly.

Charity functions and fundraisers have definitely become much less of a chore since they went public with their relationship and Tony started bringing Bucky along as his official date, doubly so now after their engagement made it into the news.

People tend to look much more favourably on Tony slipping away for a dance with his new fiancé when he needs a breather than [him hiding under one of the tables with a whole bottle of obscenely expensive champagne and one of the hors-d’oeuvre plates](https://40.media.tumblr.com/8a4a3694cf3ecdead60b632e9784c2aa/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio2_1280.png).

Which only ever happened two - or maybe seven - times, so really, no reason to even mention it again, none at all.

Besides, as long as these events are hosted in one of _his_ houses, Tony should totally be allowed to use _his_ furniture however he pleases and squirrel away as much of _his_ food that he paid for with _his_ money as he wants.

But, alas, Pepper does not concur and while Tony does a lot of stupid things, intentionally pissing off his beautifully scary and scarily powerful CEO ex-girlfriend is not particularly high on the list.

[“Steve is glaring at us,”](https://36.media.tumblr.com/ce6784257dc1321c812748e175ad5848/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio4_1280.png) Bucky whispers next to Tony’s ear, amusement clear in his voice, before he gives the lobe a playful nip, sending an excited shiver down Tony’s spine.

Tony moves one of his hands down to Bucky’s waist to give him a little squeeze, a promise for more later. “Captain Killjoy,” he mutters, feeling more than hearing Bucky’s answering chuckle where he’s nosing along Bucky’s jaw, adding, louder so Steve can hear him, too, “You promised me ten uninterrupted minutes with the soon-to-be hubby, Capsicle.”

“And I gave you fifteen,” Steve says which is true, Tony realises when he checks his watch, but still completely and utterly unfair for reasons he will think of as soon as Bucky gets his gorgeous, filthy mouth away from Tony’s neck.

They pull apart reluctantly when Steve starts doing his impatient throat clearing thing, subtly readjusting themselves in their pants with a less subtly annoyed Steve as a human shield between them and the other partygoers.

Before he can be dragged off to talk with boring people about boring things, Tony ducks away, throwing a casual, “I need to powder my nose,” over his shoulder, then snickers to himself because getting Steve to swear in public, even if it’s just a quiet _damn it, Tony,_ never fails to lift Tony’s spirits.

He uses one of the private bathrooms down the hall from the main happenings and is re-buckling his belt when the door he’s fairly sure he locked cracks open.

“What-“ Tony starts and turns, freezing mid-motion when he sees just who is stepping into the small room with him and yep, definitely locking the door after himself.

Tony has been kidnapped numerous times, spent three months as a captive of a militant terrorist group somewhere in a cave in Afghanistan, survived palladium poisoning, fought aliens, robots and semi-sentient slime and flown a nuclear missile through a space portal, but none of those things evoked an instant, paralysing wave of genuine, crippling fear such as the man crowding him back against the sink does right this moment.

And that’s ridiculous, the rational and still functioning part of Tony’s brain points out, because Tony isn’t a naive, lonely twenty-year-old starving for attention anymore, he isn’t-

“Look at you,” Ty purrs, body pressed flush against Tony’s, “it’s been too long.”

Smiling expectantly, Ty brushes a thumb over Tony’s cheekbone, runs his free hand up and down Tony’s arm as he leans in, ghosts a kiss over Tony’s slack lips with an appreciative moan.

“How about it, honey?” he asks huskily, hungry eyes raking up and down Tony’s front, briefly lingering on the ring on Tony’s hand before snapping back up. “One more go, for old times’ sake?”

Tony wants to scream, to push him away, but the words get stuck in his throat and his bones feel like jelly, useless and uncooperative, his ears ringing, eyes stinging-

With an outraged cry, Ty is yanked away from him and Tony sucks in a relieved breath, blinks against the fog in his head, his vision clearing enough to see Steve, looking absolutely livid, with his arm across Ty’s throat and Bucky-

 _Bucky_ is here and he saw and Tony didn’t do anything, he let it happen and _Bucky saw_.

“I’m sorry,” Tony chokes out, confused by but grateful for the supportive arm Bucky offers, dazedly leaning into Bucky’s side as he’s half carried out of the bathroom.

Apologies he can barely hear spill out of him until something hard nudges against the back of his thighs and Bucky guides him down onto a desk, [drawing Tony in and not protesting when Tony clings, buries his face in Bucky’s chest to hide the tears](https://40.media.tumblr.com/97924e6d10bcd2bd49eeab0524e523f2/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio3_1280.png).

Bucky holds him through the shaking and he doesn’t sound mad when he says “I’ve got you,” and “You’re safe,” and threads his fingers into Tony’s hair, rubs at the base of his neck and rocks them carefully, a steady, grounding back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” Tony croaks once the worst of the shock has passed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I wouldn’t- I would never-“

“Solnyshko,” Bucky sighs and Tony braces himself, the hands coming to cradle and tip up his face a surprise, not at all what he was expecting. Unable to help himself, Tony leans into the touch and Bucky smiles, weak but genuine. “You did nothin’ wrong, none of this was your fault.”

Tony frowns up at him. “I don’t- I don’t understand, I- with Ty and- and-“

“Tony,” Bucky interrupts sternly and Tony twitches, immediately making Bucky’s expression soften again. “Did you ask for any of this? Did you initiate it? Did you want it?”

Shaking his head, Tony nervously watches Bucky for any signs of anger, not entirely following.

Bucky kisses his forehead then, crouches by Tony’s feet and gently squeezes his legs. “Has something like this happened before?” he ventures cautiously because Bucky isn’t stupid, Tony knows that, and Tony told him, not much but enough, apparently. “Did he hurt you, when you were together?”

“I-“ Tony starts, then falters and has to clear his throat. “Not- not really. He was- he never- he always apologised after.”

After the fights and the screaming, the cheating, the ignoring Tony for weeks on end, the controlling and dozens of phone calls to check up on Tony, even after the Incident, especially after the Incident.

And Tony wasn’t innocent either, Tony yelled right back, stayed out long with friends despite knowing that Ty didn’t like it, acted like he didn’t know about the other men, was needy and clingy, took up so much of Ty’s time and got frustrated when Ty wouldn’t give him what he wanted, pushed and pushed until Ty snapped and really, it didn’t hurt, not much, Tony has done worse to himself down in the workshop, there wasn’t even a bruise, only a small one, easy to cover up and gone after a week or two-

“I shoulda punched him harder,” Bucky grits out, definitely angry now, and Tony snaps his mouth shut, wonders when he opened it in the first place. “Tony, please, c’mere.”

Tony goes willingly, lets Bucky pull him down into his lap and wrap his arms around him, tucks his face into Bucky’s neck and closes his eyes, mumbles another, “I’m sorry.”

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for, solnyshko,” Bucky insists firmly, “nothin’ at all. Nothin’ that happened, today or back then, was on you, do you hear me? It wasn’t your fault, none of it.”

Tony makes a sceptical noise at that. “But I-“

“None of it,” Bucky repeats and Tony hums noncommittally, snuggling closer into Bucky’s warmth, whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Bucky says, warm and punctuated with a kiss to the side of Tony’s head. “And I know you don’t believe me about most of this, but I’ll tell you every single day until you do.”

“Stubborn,” Tony accuses mildly.

“You bet,” Bucky agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And during the ride home, Tony suddenly remembers what exactly Bucky said, nearly causing Happy to swerve off the road when he demands, very loudly, “Wait, you punched Ty?” And Bucky just grins, all smug and not sorry in the least. [And the next morning, all the gossip rags have pictures of Ty with a black eye on their front pages](https://40.media.tumblr.com/7c1a365561aec1f7817d6b385a98dbae/tumblr_nkcwfrYoK71u7ktfio1_1280.png). Bucky preens for days. THE END.)
> 
>  **Listen here, everyone!**  
>  The [winterironbang](http://winterironbang.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr still [needs more artists](http://winterironbang.tumblr.com/post/118528175003/i-would-just-like-to-say-a-huge-thank-you-to). You don't have to draw, you can do fan videos, gifs, images/sets, fanmixes and all sorts of other things, so please, consider signing up. It would be super sad if the bang couldn't happen because there aren't enough people participating.


	17. Magic Mishap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "imagine Bucky and Tony are out on a date doing cute date things when there's an attack right near where they are. Tony ends up getting hit with some sort of blue green beam of light and Bucky is terrified that Tony's dead because he didn't have his suit on. but when Bucky goes to see Tony's body he curses in Russian because Tony's been turned into adorable 4 year old Tony. Bucky's just glad Tony's ok and Tiny Tony is confused but remembers Bucky from Howard's stories so he goes with him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this prompt: "Tony gets turned into a child? A loud, obnoxious, too-smart-for-his own-good seven year old?"

A quiet, “Oh, no.”

A worried, “Billy?”

That’s all the warning Bucky gets before there’s a flash of blinding blue-green light and a shockwave that sends most of the tables and their contents flying, followed by a lot of confused screaming and shouting.

Blinking against the moisture blurring his vision, Bucky quickly scans the room, the culprit easy to pinpoint down on the floor with his back against a wall, eyes wide in shock and his still faintly glowing hands clasped over his mouth.

“Don’t move,” Bucky barks at him and the teenager, he can’t be much older than eighteen, nods meekly and buries his face in his arms, breathing heavily.

Confident that Billy will stay put, Bucky finally registers the panic trying to settle into the back of his head and grits his teeth against it, crawling back over to where Tony had been sitting and laughing only a few short moments ago.

Tony’s far from helpless without his suit, the rational part of Bucky knows, but there’s only so much a normal, non-enhanced human body can take before it breaks and with magic added to the mix, well.

“Tony?” Bucky coughs, throat itchy with dust and smoke, and tugs a scorched tablecloth out of the way to get at the lump underneath, only to freeze mid-motion at the familiar yet startlingly different set of honey-brown eyes peering up at him.

It’s Tony all right, there’s no mistaking the messy hair or the characteristic pout on his face, but his cheeks are rounder, his features softer and he’s about three feet tall, give or take a few inches, his formerly perfectly fitting suit pooled loosely around him as he stares back at Bucky and demands, “Who are you?”

“Uh,” Bucky says dumbly, doing his best fish out of the water expression with the ruined piece of fabric clutched uselessly in his hand.

Tony huffs impatiently and struggles to his feet, sparing a brief glare at his now too big clothes before focusing his attention back on Bucky and raising a questioning eyebrow, hands on his hips and lips pursed. “Well?”

“James,” Bucky manages, mind still reeling, and something in Tony’s expression shifts, a spark of recognition crossing his face.

“Bucky?” he asks and Bucky’s shoulders sag in relief, but it turns out to be a short-lived respite when Tony adds a suspicious, “Howard says you’re dead.”

Cheered to soon, Bucky thinks with a resigned sigh, then realises that if this really is a younger version of Tony, he can’t very well go ahead and tell him the truth without traumatising the poor kid.

“It’s complicated,” is what Bucky settles for.

Tony seems unimpressed. “Are we in the future?” he wants to know and points at the somehow undamaged and still running TV hanging in the corner, the date and the day’s headlines splashed across the screen.

“Uh,” Bucky says again and silently curses his quick-witted boyfriend and ew, okay. No. That’s not- just, no. Not the time to think about Tony in _that_ way, nope.

Unbothered by Bucky’s lack of an answer, Tony babbles on, taking a few steps closer and bracing himself against Bucky’s metal shoulder, curiously inspecting the prosthetic through the explosion-induced hole in his shirt. “Are you a cyborg? Is that how you’re alive? How strong are you? Can you fly? Do you have guns or lasers?”

Bucky is saved from Tony’s onslaught of question when the teenage magician lets out a strangled, “Oh fuck, I shrank Tony Stark. Teddy, I shrank Tony Stark, oh my God!”

“Shit,” the one apparently called Teddy says emphatically, rubbing a soothing hand up and down a clearly distraught Billy’s back as they cautiously walk closer to Tony and Bucky.

The other guests are mostly unharmed, a superficial cut or a bruise here and there, but there’s the sound of sirens coming from only a few blocks away and Bucky acts without hesitating, jumps to his feet and picks up the tiny Tony to settle him on his hip, jerking his chin at the two teenagers and then over to the back exit. “Move, we can’t have this in the papers. And no more funny business.”

Happy, to his credit, doesn’t so much as blink when he sees the four of them bolting toward the car which, Bucky thinks wryly, is a pretty good reflection of the general weirdness of their lives as Avengers.

The thirties had been so much easier and yes, that’s counting the goddamned Depression!

***

They meet up with the rest of the team at Strange’s mansion where, after it’s established that Tony is not in any immediate danger due to the misfired spell, everyone with the exception of Natasha and Strange himself - who sets about trying to find out how to reverse the de-aging effects - promptly starts to coo and fuss over Tony, much to the kid’s delight.

Tony delegates and orders all the adults around from his kingly perch on Steve’s shoulders, chattering nonstop and not shying away from interrupting Strange whenever he decides something warrants his commentary.

Which is often.

“What’s that?”

“Gemstone.”

“What’s it for?”

“Storing energy.”

“Energy for what?”

“Spells and incantations.”

“Where do you get the energy?”

“It is harnessed from-“

“Is it like electricity?”

“In a sense, although-“

“How old are you?”

“I-“

“It’s smells kind of funky in here.”

At that point, Bucky intervenes for the sake of everyone’s safety and his own sanity.

***

“No, you have to add the basil last,” Tony insists, his tone making it very clear what he thinks of Bucky’s level of intelligence, and goes about fishing the leaves back out of the sauce.

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath, reminding himself that this isn’t permanent, that, according to Strange, the spell will wear off on its own by tomorrow morning and reset Tony to his proper age and stature.

“I don’t think it matters, Tony,” he tries and then immediately feels guilty when Tony’s face crumples before going carefully, neutrally blank, an expression that a kid that young definitely shouldn’t know, let alone wear.

“But that’s how Jarvis does it,” Tony mumbles, rubbing a hand over his eyes and sniffling into his sleeve.

Setting the cutting board aside, Bucky slides his hands under Tony’s arms and lifts him up, Tony curling into him automatically and resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder, damp face turned into Bucky’s neck.

It’s been hard, coming to terms with what’s happened today, but if Bucky struggles with it, where does that leave Tony? He’s the one directly affected and not knowing what exactly is going on around him, only having the team’s heavily censored explanations of his current situation to draw his own conclusions from.

And while he trusts both Bucky and Steve - and, by proxy, the people trusted by Bucky and Steve - and is dealing remarkably well, all things considered, he still is in a strange place with strange people and his usual caregivers nowhere in sight.

That’s gotta be tough, no matter how blasé Tony tries to act. 

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Bucky sighs and presses a kiss to the top of Tony’s head, smiling a little when Tony hums and arches into the touch almost greedily. “We’ll do it your way. What’s next?”

***

It gets somewhat awkward later in the evening when Bucky realises that their normal sleeping arrangement might not be entirely appropriate right now, and he ponders over the issue while Tony splashes around in the tub, screeching excitedly or exclaiming triumphantly from time to time, obviously having a blast.

In the end, he offers Tony a choice between the guest room and an air mattress on the floor in what is Bucky and adult Tony’s bedroom, earning himself a haughty toss of Tony’s head.

“I can sleep on my own, I’m _four_ ,” he informs Bucky very seriously, “not a baby.”

Despite that, Bucky hears tiny feet pattering across the hall just as he is about to drift off himself, Tony’s tear-streaked face appearing in the cracked door a moment later.

“I had a bad dream,” Tony admits miserably through his hiccups, practically throwing himself at Bucky when Bucky lifts the edge of the covers in invitation. “It was dark and I couldn’t breathe.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” Bucky whispers, stroking Tony’s back and brushing sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead, berating himself for not thinking of this, Tony’s regular nightmares and how much worse they must be for the kid version of him. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

“I know, that’s why I went with you,” Tony yawns and burrows closer, tucking his head under Bucky’s chin and wedging his freezing toes under Bucky’s legs.

And if Bucky gets a little choked up at hearing that, well, it’s dark and no one ever has to know.

***

The blowjob the decidedly grown Tony wakes him with the next morning is awfully nice, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added short, descriptive titles to all the individual chapters for (hopefully) easier navigation.


	18. The Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Winter Soldier is kind of like a separate mindset Bucky falls back on when overwhelmed/a certain skill set is needed. Winter is very protective over those that are his, double so when Bucky and Tony start dating."

An egomaniacal inventor scorned by the scientific community and feeling a little butthurt over his work not being recognised is all it takes for a routine mission to spiral completely out of control.

It’s less than an hour before they get Cap back to the tower and out of the ice - and seriously, freeze rays are so late 80s - but that, understandably, is more than enough time to reduce Steve to a shivering, crying mess.

Which is how the team meets _him_ for the first time.

It has been months since Bucky broke the last of HYDRA’s programming, so it’s really no wonder everyone in the room is instantly on high alert when, between one blink and the next, Bucky’s face goes from frightened and frantic to calmly blank.

Tony sees Nat’s hand on her gun, ready to unholster, as they watch Bucky manhandle a struggling Steve up into a sitting position and move behind him, pulling Steve back against him and splaying his hands across Steve’s chest and stomach.

“Breathe with me,” Bucky instructs, hooking his legs over Steve’s when Steve keeps thrashing, effectively pinning him in place. “Steve, breathe. With me.”

His voice is commanding, no trace left of the Bucky Tony has come to know over the last half year, the quiet, withdrawn, almost shy man clawing his way back into his own mind and body in a show of patience and brutal determination that Tony can only envy and admire.

It’s as if a flip has been switched, turning Bucky himself off and activating pure instinct instead, but it works.

Slowly but steadily, Steve’s ragged breathing returns to a more normal pace and he sags back against Bucky, eyes screwed shut and hands clenched into fists while Bucky keeps talking in that clinical yet oddly reassuring tone.

They nearly have to start all over once Steve realises Bucky isn’t fully present and immediately begins freaking out again, but then Bucky shudders and visibly shakes himself out of this other, new persona, tentatively smiling up at the gathered group of people staring at him.

And that’s how it goes from there.

Bucky is mostly Bucky, still trying to figure himself out and adjust to life post brainwashing and massive trauma, but every now and again when things become too stressful, when he’s overwhelmed or doesn’t feel up to a certain task, Bucky vanishes and lets this other side of him take over for a while.

At first, it’s weird. Steve worries and fusses every time Bucky disappears, concerned for his mental state and scared shitless that it will turn out to be a permanent change and honestly, Tony isn’t faring much better.

The entire thing is making him edgy and he finds himself hovering close to Bucky when he’s not-Bucky more often than not, something which he resolutely refuses to analyse closer because he’s not crushing on Cap’s charming and gorgeous childhood friend made no less handsome assassin, he totally isn’t!

The therapists and psychiatrists, however, the entire horde of them, agree that it’s a coping mechanism. Not the best or healthiest one, certainly, though there really isn’t another case comparable to Bucky’s, so the general consensus ends up being that whatever doesn’t do any more harm is probably not a bad thing.

The scientist in Tony rebels against that for a good long while, only appeased when it becomes obvious that playing Winter Soldier from time to time actually seems to speed up Bucky’s recovery.

And calling him, that other Bucky, the Winter Soldier isn’t fair either, Tony has to admit to himself. Sure, the expressions - or lack thereof - and movements are eerily similar and it’s creepy as hell to walk in on Bucky without warning when he’s in that mode, and the skill itself to tune out like that is clearly a remnant of HYDRA’s reprogramming attempts, but it is what it is and really, it’s not the most bizarre thing to ever happen in Tony’s life.

And it’s not only Bucky that profits from all of this, the rest of the team is pulled into it, too.

James, as they come to call Bucky during those times he isn’t Bucky, is protective and takes care of what he considers his, including the people closest to him, his flock, as Clint christens them all jokingly.

They learn that HYDRA trained James into a more than decent field medic when Natasha comes home from a mission battered and bruised and James takes one look at her before striding over and, without preamble, resets her dislocated shoulder.

Clint is shameless in taking advantage of that in order to avoid being sent to the infirmary, happy to let James stitch up his cuts and wrap his bruised ribs.

The Hulk, to everyone’s surprise, listens to James more so than anyone else when Bruce is forced or spooked into changing. Tony suspects it’s a confidence thing because it doesn’t look like the Winter Soldier had been used to being disobeyed which, lucky for them, apparently carries over to James now. 

Thor loves sparring with him whenever he’s James and James is equally enthusiastic about the opportunity to unleash his full strength and potential, about not holding back.

And Bucky always seems pleased about having helped when he comes back to himself, too, head held higher and back straighter, so they all leave him to it, glad he’s found something that makes him feel needed and accomplished.

But all of that, that’s peanuts compared to the treatment Steve and Tony, although Tony has trouble understanding why him, receive.

Steve, well, he makes sense, Tony figures, the two of them are best friends forever across time and space or something like that, it’s only logical that both Bucky and James are hell-bent on keeping that lug of a martyr complex safe and whole.

But Bucky is also mother-henning Tony, coaxing him into eating and resting, and providing silent company down in the workshop when Tony desperately needs some human contact but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

He’s more tactile and physical with Tony than with anybody else, even Steve, always sitting close, pressed together side to side, steering Tony with a hand on the small of his back, knocking their hips together when they walk or letting their hands brush, resting his head on Tony’s shoulders and hugging Tony.

Hugging!

It drives Tony mad because he can’t, for the life of him, figure it out.

Until Bucky kisses him, that is, just turns to him one day while they’re watching mindless drivel on TV and generally being lazy, turns to Tony and nudges Tony’s nose with his before leaning in to gently, carefully press their lips together.

Everything becomes pretty clear, then.

And James, he is a whole other story. It doesn’t matter what or who causes James to emerge, he always, without fail, checks on Tony before he steps aside and allows Bucky to come back again.

“You’re his favourite,” Clint tends to tease and is proven right by James showing them all that he very much shares Bucky’s sentiments for Tony.

They’ve just finished off the last of the Doombots randomly terrorising the city when James drops down from a nearby fire escape, entirely ignores Cap lecturing him about following them into a fight yet again and strides right up to Tony with a growled, “Face plate, up. Now.”

Tony doesn’t even think about hesitating and has only enough time to see James take in his broken nose and black eye before he’s being kissed, right there on the street, careful due to his injuries but no less possessive, James’ body pressed close against the armour, Tony’s face cradled between two strong hands.

“Stop being reckless,” James grunts, breath ghosting across Tony’s lips, and Tony nods and moans into their next kiss, the suit folding away from him so he can melt against James, into the arms wrapping tightly around him.

They skip the debrief, not that James has to go or that anyone expected differently from Tony, in favour of sharing a long, hot shower, James making it his personal mission to scrub Tony clean from head to toe and then towelling him dry, following each newly revealed patch of warm, pink skin with his mouth and tongue.

Which feels a little like cheating on Bucky, who’d normally be the one insisting on doing all of this and then going about taking Tony apart just to be able to put him back together again, Tony realises guiltily and says as much to James, earning himself a fondly annoyed eye-roll and a gruff, “We’re not different people. I’m him and he’s me, we’re the same and we love you. I love you.”

Mind reeling from that particular revelation, Tony lets himself be herded out of the bathroom and into bed where he promptly forgets about more or less everything for quite some time.

It’s later, when they’re curled up together under the covers, sweaty and sticky and sated, when Tony feels the fingers in his hair turn just that much gentler, that he looks up from his position on a very nicely muscled chest and mumbles a quiet, “Love you, too.”

Bucky grins, all smug and self-satisfied, and rolls them over, sprawling all over Tony and tucking his head under Tony’s chin with a contented little hum. “I know.”


	19. Civil War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "What if there's a fight amongst the Avengers (pick any reason, including Tony's money, Tony's self-sacrifice, SHIELD/HYDRA, anything else), and Tony expects everybody to choose sides against him. But Bucky (and the Avenger(s) of your choice, though maybe just Bucky) don't. Happy Avengers family ending not needed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this prompt: "imagine bucky talking tony's side over steve's in an argument between steve and tony. awkward. (the circumstances of the argument, whether it is cracky or angsty and everything else i leave in all your talented hands, i would just love to see this scenario! :D)"
> 
> Loosely based on but not strictly following the events of Civil War. Civil War inspired? AU Civil War? Civil War-ish? Anyway, I figured this needs a special warning because Civil War = all the feels.

Tony slumps back against the seat the moment the car door falls closed behind him, trembling hands coming up to cover his face as he screws his eyes shut and tries to get his breathing and rapidly beating heart back under control, Senator Dawson’s words still ringing in his ears.

The man is famous for being one of the most vocal mutant and superhero opponents, a regular guest on talk shows where he loudly declares the danger they all pose to the nation, so Tony hadn’t gone into the meeting with high hopes of reaching any sort of understanding, but he most definitely had not been prepared for Dawson’s proposal.

The Superhuman Registration Act.

Rationally, Tony knows the whole thing is little more than a badly set up farce with the goal of gaining power over certain individuals, giving the government and, therefore, a lot of highly unsavoury politicians the authority to direct and control the people falling under the act according to their will.

To make them all pawns to be used to fight for money and personal agendas instead of freedom and justice.

But.

There’s always a but.

The idea is not completely without merit, whatever the initiators’ intentions may be.

Fact is that there’s damage involved whenever superhero’s move out, people get hurt, the wrong people, innocent people are the ones who suffer, who get killed.

And the public notices.

It doesn’t matter if yet another alien invasion has been successfully prevented, the headlines will always be about what went wrong, about the destruction and the cost of rebuilding and the ones who lost their lives, albeit indirectly, due to the superheroes and their actions.

People are starting to demand trials, insist that having powers should not put anyone above the law, that even heroes have to answer for what they’re doing.

And while the SRA promises to be invasive and restricting, it would also provide some degree of protection.

If superheroes acted under governmental order, they would be awarded the same partial immunity as the police or the military, allowing them to properly do their jobs without the constant fear of being thrown in jail for it should something unfortunate or unforeseen occur.

It’s only a matter of time until something big happens, something that will sway the public’s opinion against the heroes, and they have to have some sort of security in place before that, Tony knows, or else no amount of super soldier serum or technological marvels will prevent them from being hunted down.

Besides, Tony has seen the other, more radical propositions Dawson has on the ready to release in case of emergency and those cannot, under any circumstances, become reality.

Nobody would be safe anymore. 

***

Bucky can hear them shouting in the kitchen from all the way down the hall and, with a forlorn glance down at the empty cup in his hand, turns back around again, ready to retreat and wait for them to finish whatever idiotic argument they’re having this time around when he hears it.

“I can’t believe you’d do this without talking to me first,” Steve yells and Bucky knows him, has known him for a very long time, and that’s not just annoyance or irritation in Steve’s voice, that’s betrayal.

“I haven’t done anything,” Tony fires back, sounding raw, pained. “And I’m telling you now. Steve-“

But Steve doesn’t let him finish, talks right over him. “Why would you- this is insane, Tony, why would you support any of this? Why?”

Careful as not to be detected, Bucky tiptoes closer until he can peek through the crack in the kitchen door, still hidden away in the shadows.

Tony is leaning back against the counter, fingers of one hand braced against his forehead and free arm wrapped protectively around himself while Steve paces, clenched fists twitching at his sides.

“I’m not,” Tony sighs and then, when that only makes Steve snort, adds more insistently, “I’m not, Steve. I haven’t given Dawson my answer yet.”

“You should have and it should have been _no_ ,” Steve growls, eyes flashing dangerously. “What’s there to think about? They can’t do this, we can’t allow them to do this!”

“Steve, please, _think_ ,” Tony pleads, reaching out as if to touch Steve’s shoulder but thinking better of it at the look of pure, righteous anger on Steve’s face. “I don’t want this, God, of course I don’t want this. But we need some sort of- of protection or security. We can’t go on like this and just hope for the best, hope that everything works out fine and no one screws up. Because someone will, eventually.”

Steve only glares harder. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tony hisses, torn between desperation and frustration, “that’s your idealism talking. The world doesn’t work like that, not everything is black or white, there’s a whole lot of grey out there, too.”

“We’re helping,” Steve grits out, “we’re the good guys. I won’t give anyone that sort of control over me, never again. And I certainly won’t force anyone who isn’t willing to disclose personal information like that to the government. It’s not right, Tony. It’s not.”

“It’s not ideal,” Tony allows, holding up a hand to halt Steve’s immediate protest. “It’s very far from ideal, I get that, I do, okay? And they’re not doing it for us, shit, I know they’re not, but if we’re smart about this, we can turn it around. Use it to our benefit.”

Steve quirks a sceptical eyebrow, but Tony pushes on, undeterred.

“They want us to register, they want control over us, they want to be able to hold us responsible because we’re the ones out there and pinning everything on us is easy. But Dawson came to me early on, we can negotiate, get a better deal out of it, use this whole thing to help us along. What do you think will happen if more people die because of us, huh?” Tony demands. “Do you think the public will just continue to stand for it? To accept it? Look at the polls, Steve, they’re already turning against us, it’s fact, it’s there in the numbers, this isn’t just me being paranoid.”

He takes a deep breath, then goes on with, “We need to get in on this now, we really do. Before it’s too late. Something will change, Steve, no matter if we’re on board with it or not, there’s no fighting against it. We have a chance to make this as painless for us as possible right now, but if we wait, wait until something happens and the Senate decides they will have to take immediate action, it will be worse. They will be ruthless with us and they won’t shy away from using us saying no to the SRA against us. Steve, we have to do _something_.”

There’s a long stretch of silence following Tony’s speech, awkward and tense, Tony nervously fiddling with his tie and Steve staring down at the floor, jaw set and shoulders held rigidly.

“What about Bucky?” Steve demands after a while, chin lifted defiantly, and Tony actually flinches.

“That’s low,” he whispers hoarsely and Bucky grimaces, has to agree, but Steve is relentless.

“If this law passes, are people going to be held accountable for past actions, too? What do you think they’ll do if they can get their hands on the Winter Soldier? They’re going to tear him apart-“

“You think I don’t know that?” Tony spits, furious, taking a step forward to poke Steve in the chest. “You think I wouldn’t do everything in my power to protect him, to keep him safe? To keep all of you safe? That’s exactly why I’m thinking about doing this, for him, for you, to prevent this whole situation from escalating out of our control.”

But Steve merely shakes his head, letting out a brittle little laugh completely devoid of any real humour or mirth. “You’re doing this because it’s easier, because you’re selfish and all you ever think about is yourself.”

“That’s enough,” Bucky orders and moves into the kitchen, both Tony and Steve looking over at him guiltily. To Steve he adds, “And Tony has a point, you know he does.”

Under any other circumstances, the way Steve’s jaw drops almost comically would be funny, make Bucky laugh and give him a teasing, playful nudge, but not today, not about this.

“You’re taking his side?” Steve asks incredulously. “Buck-“

“As far as I’m concerned, there aren’t any sides,” Bucky says, trying to stay calm and collected faced with Steve’s hurt expression. “Things have been put in motion and all we can do, all of us, _together_ , is figure out where to go from here. Tony is right, Steve, something’s going to change and we damn well better make sure we have some say in it.”

Steve closes his eyes at that, takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, Bucky knows they’ve lost him for now. “I can’t let you do this. I won’t let you do this.”

With that, Steve turns on his heels and strides out of the room, ignoring both Tony and Bucky calling after him.

And Bucky will go after him, will go find him and attempt to talk some sense into him, to at least make him listen, but for now, there’s someone else who needs him more.

Without saying anything, Bucky tugs Tony closer and wraps his arms around him, presses a kiss into his messy hair while Tony trembles against him, curls his own fingers into Bucky’s shirt, croaks, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky just holds him tighter.


	20. Lust at First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Bucky thinking Steve/Tony are in a relationship (rather than the usual Tony thinking it)"

Bucky doesn’t believe in love at first sight.

What he is, however, is instantly infatuated the moment Tony turns to face him, dark eyes twinkling mischievously and messy hair sticking up adorably as he looks Bucky up and down, lets out an appreciative whistle and drawls, “Hot damn, soldier.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sugar,” Bucky leers right back because, well, Tony’s fucking gorgeous, all lithe muscle with an apparently dirty sense of humour and an ass that looks downright edible in those tight black jeans.

Tony laughs, delighted, and winks at Bucky as he saunters past him to greet Steve by-

By standing up on his tiptoes and tugging Steve down with a hand curled into his collar to press a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, Steve’s smile a little exasperated but mostly fond as he pulls Tony into a hug.

And wow, Bucky thinks, embarrassed and quickly averting his gaze, that stings.

Not because Tony is obviously unavailable, although that _is_ a shame, but rather because while Bucky had mustered up all his goddamned courage to confess to Steve that he likes men back when liking men had still been a criminal offense and very heavily frowned upon, Steve had stayed quiet.

Granted, he hadn’t judged Bucky or thrown him out or done any of the other things Bucky’d imagined beforehand, but a little support in form of mutual honesty sure woulda been nice.

At least this explains why Steve has been checking his phone almost obsessively every few minutes for the last couple of weeks, even while visiting Bucky at the clinic, during their outings and, Bucky suspects, every time he went to take a leak.

Bucky’d teased him relentlessly about his obvious crush, of course, as is the responsibility of a best friend. This, though, is not at all what Bucky had expected.

“Buck?” Steve calls and, going by the worried undertone in his voice, not for the first time, either. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky murmurs dully, then clears his throat and shakes himself out of his sudden funk, trying on a smile he knows probably isn’t very convincing. “I’m fine.”

Bucky can see Steve wants to ask if he’s sure, but he holds himself back, reaches out to give Bucky’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze instead. “There’s a diner Tony likes-“

“Best pastrami sandwiches in town,” Tony supplies seriously.

“-just around the corner. You up for some lunch?”

Going out with Steve and his secret - and incredibly hot - boyfriend is the last thing Bucky wants, glancing around almost frantically for some sort excuse when his eyes catch on their bags still heaped hazardously in the entrance hall.

“You two go ahead,” he says, gesturing at their luggage, “I’m gonna unpack first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony waves dismissively, “I’ve got people for this sort of thing.”

Before Bucky can point out that that’s completely unnecessary, Tony has already slung an arm around his waist and is tugging him toward the door, talking a mile a minute while Steve trails along behind them, smiling indulgently.

And shit, the guy even smells amazing. Bucky is _so_ screwed.

***

The food is as good as promised, but that does little to lift Bucky’s spirits.

He sits and eats, watching Steve and Tony catch up on the other side of the booth, pressed together from shoulder to hip, and tells himself it’d be stupid to be jealous ‘cause of a man he’s known for all of two hours.

No matter how lovely Tony is when he laughs and his nose does that cute crinkle thing that makes Bucky want to reach out and touch, or how inviting those pouty lips look whenever Tony sulks at Steve.

And yeah, Bucky winces inwardly, _Steve_. God, Bucky’s such a creep, having these kinds of thoughts about Steve’s boyfriend.

He stabs at his sandwich with considerably more force than strictly necessary, grunting out a quiet “No,” when Steve gets up and asks if he wants anything else.

“What crawled up your ass, sourpuss?” Tony wants to know, suddenly in the seat next to him when Bucky looks up from his plate.

“Nothing,” Bucky sighs and rubs a hand over his face, starting to feel guilty for ruining a perfectly nice meal for the two of them. “Sorry.”

But Tony just shrugs, then grins and lifts his hand to swipe his thumb over a drop of mayo on Bucky’s bottom lip before popping it into his own mouth with a borderline obscene hum.

Which is not okay, but also such a surprise that Bucky needs a moment to blink dumbly before he snaps, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tony quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Flirting?”

“You-“ Bucky splutters indignantly and now Tony’s face changes, confusion creeping into his expression.

“I might have misread the situation,” Tony allows carefully. Which is the understatement of the decade.

“What about Steve?” Bucky hisses angrily, craning his neck to thankfully see Steve still chatting with the girl behind the counter, oblivious to his boyfriend’s attempted straying.

“We don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to,” Tony offers, unperturbed.

Bucky sees red. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” He glares, hard enough that Tony slides away on the bench to bring some more space between them, eyes wide in shock. Good. “You really think I’d do that to him?”

That’s followed by a long moment of awkward silence and then Tony bursts out laughing, of all things.

“You think- you think-“ he wheezes, clutching at Bucky’s arm to keep himself from doubling over. “You think Steve and me?”

“Yes!” Bucky exclaims emphatically, only for Tony to dissolve into a new fit of giggles. Scowling, Bucky adds, “I don’t see what’s funny.”

“There’s nothing going on between Cap and me, cupcake,” Tony explains, moving in close again, hand stroking up to Bucky’s shoulder. “He’s incredibly straight and I’m undeniably male.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at the other man, accuses, “You kissed him.”

“Barely,” Tony amends. “He used to blush at everything even remotely sexual and I love riling him up.”

“You go around kissin’ people as a prank?” Bucky frowns but doesn’t pull back when Tony uses his free hand to link it with Bucky’s metal one resting on the table.

“Only Steve and only the one time,” Tony says honestly, leaning in so that their noses are bumping together. “But there’s someone else I wouldn’t mind getting naked and sweaty with.”

“Is that so?” Bucky purrs, closes his eyes and-

“Oh,” Steve squeaks, cheeks turning bright red when Bucky turns to glance up at him. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Tony lets out a frustrated groan, burying his face in Bucky’s neck, and Bucky curls an arm around him, hiding his smile in Tony’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/114834966060/loosely-based-on-the-ending-of-this-promt-enjoy) inspired by this prompt.


	21. Sappy Pet Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony and Bucky like to call each other by super sappy petnames in private. One day when the Winter Soldier programming is somehow triggered, Tony pulls Bucky back with totally gag-worthy, sugar-sweet petnames."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this prompt: "Everyone is just waiting for when Bucky will punch Tony for all the nicknames he gives him, but in reality Bucky finds them cute/hot/charming."

It would be nice and more romantic, Tony thinks, if he could say that it had taken a little more than five hours filled with increasingly suggestive flirting and heated glances for him and Bucky to get naked and sweaty together, but that’s exactly what happened and he’s standing by it.

Also, in the name of full disclosure; they never actually made it to the bedroom that first time around and no, he hasn’t cleaned Bucky’s butt print off the workshop table yet and he probably never will.

Anyway.

They’re doing everything backwards, as the others are wont to point out, had a good four months of incredibly hot sex, followed by an awkward few weeks where neither one knew where the other saw this thing between them going and then, finally, half a year of the shmoopiest, most over the top dates Tony has ever been on.

But Bucky loves getting spoilt and Tony loves spoiling Bucky, so that had worked out just fine for everyone involved.

And now, now they are in what Clint insists is the honeymoon phase.

“Move over, pudding pop,” Tony says as he clambers over the back of the couch with his arms full of snacks, nudging Bucky in the stomach with his foot.

Bucky obliges happily, pulling Tony against his side as soon as he’s done depositing the chips and pop corn on the coffee table. “Missed you, darlin’,” he hums, rubbing his nose into Tony’s hair and making Clint groan from his position in one of the armchairs.

“He was in the kitchen for less than three minutes,” Clint says pointedly, shaking his head in defeat when both Tony and Bucky continue to smile serenely at him. “You guys are fucking disgusting, you know that, right?”

Snickering, Tony tips back his head and Bucky is already there, closing the last bit of distance between them to press their lips together, bringing up a hand to cup Tony’s face and grinning into the kiss.

And yes, it’s a lot of fun to rile up the rest of team with their ridiculously, sickeningly sweet behaviour, but honestly, that’s just an added bonus. Because even though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself and Bucky, Tony is a total sucker for the silly, casually intimate nicknames.

The only person with an even bigger weakness for them is Bucky, despite what the others think about the whole thing.

Tony knows all about their little bet, and telling Bucky that everyone’s waiting for him to get sick of all the cutesy pet names and sock Tony in the jaw had been a real treat and continues to be a source of constant amusement ever since.

So no, they don’t act like lovesick fools solely for the benefit of chasing Clint out of the room or making Steve turn bright red, mostly they do it because it’s what they are.

***

“Bad day?” Bucky asks when he finds Tony in the shower with his forehead pressed against the tiles, gently tugging at Tony’s shoulder until Tony turns around and tucks himself against Bucky, clings to him and holds on tightly. “It’s okay, angel eyes, I’ve got you.”

They stand under the spray, letting the hot water wash away tension and soreness, curled against each other and swaying slowly.

“Thanks, caramellino,” Tony mumbles eventually, words muffled against the skin of Bucky’s neck while Bucky runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, rubs them over the back of his neck.

Tony lets Bucky towel him dry and wrap him in one of the comfortable, fluffy robes, readily follows him to the bed where they collapse in a tangle of limbs and blankets, pressed as close together as possible.

There are lazy kisses and wandering hands, Tony whispering, “You’re perfect, so gorgeous, my adorable little cuddlebug,” and Bucky answering with, “Only for you, baby doll.”

It’s cheesy and potentially embarrassing.

Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

“Coffe, c’mon, give it here, honey cakes,” Tony pleads, making grabby hands for the mug and moaning almost obscenely through the first sip. “Good. That’s good, baby.”

“You’re welcome, kitten,” Bucky smiles and ruffles his hair, using the moment of distracted outrage to steal a kiss before Tony’s mouth is otherwise occupied again.

***

“Harder, big boy, more,” Tony pants wantonly, spreading his legs wider and arching his back to get Bucky exactly where he wants him, making a frustrated noise when Bucky catches his hips and pins them to the mattress.

“Patience, doll face,” Bucky whispers, peppering kisses over Tony’s face and nipping at his jaw. “I’ll take care of you, cherry, I promise.”

Which he does, having Tony claw at his arms and wheeze out, “I love you, dewdrop, so much, mine, my pretty boy,” when he finally comes.

***

It happens so fast, Tony hasn’t even fully turned around yet after Bucky’s pained shout when he hears a few words in angrily hissed Russian and Bucky goes still, the HYDRA agent slipping away and diving off the roof onto the waiting jet.

“Bucky?” he asks, trying and failing pretty spectacularly at keeping the panic out of his voice. “Baby?”

Steve moves closer from the other side, hands held out placatingly in front of him. “Buck?”

Bucky’s face is worryingly blank as he pulls the weapon out of his hip holster and aims it at Steve’s head and Tony doesn’t think, quickens his steps and puts himself between Cap and what he’s pretty sure is whatever remains of the Winter Soldier.

He retracts the faceplate and makes an effort not to think about the pistol immediately being pressed against his forehead, ignoring Steve’s concerned protests and giving the command for the rest of the suit to fold away instead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tony smiles, wobbly and strained but genuine nonetheless because this is Bucky, _his_ Bucky, no matter what. “Hey, cupcake, how about you lower that gun, huh? Come on, duckling, remember me?”

That earns him bared teeth and a snarl, Bucky’s finger flexing on the trigger.

“Caro mio,” Tony chokes out, cautious as he reaches out to press his hand against Bucky’s chest, thumb stroking back and forth softly. “You can snap out of it, blossom, I know you can. Hey, come on, tesoro, I know you’re in there somewhere.”

“I don’t-“ Bucky starts, blinking rapidly, expression changing to confused and lost. “I don’t- I- I know you?”

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, wet and more than a little hysterical, nodding frantically. “Yeah, you do, sunshine. Snookums, buttercup, biscottino, love of my life. Bucky be-“

“Not that one,” Bucky interrupts, pouting. Then his eyes grow wide, flickering from Tony to Steve and back. “Tony?”

“Yeah, bunny, it’s me,” Tony sniffles, only realising he’s full out crying when Bucky lets go of his pistol to cup Tony’s face between his hands and brush away his tears, not caring one bit about his own. “Welcome back.”

“Tony,” Bucky breathes again and hauls Tony in, tucking his nose behind Tony’s ear as he takes deep, shaky breaths, whispers, “Don’t fuckin’ call me Bucky bear, I hate that one.”

“Monkey butt?” Tony offers, yelping when Bucky pinches his thigh.


	22. Édith Piaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "imagine tony & bucky slow-dancing to edith piaf"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a song fic. No, I’m not sorry. Listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0BhwCk0y3A) while reading. As for the translations, those are always a little tricky. I decided to arrange it so the meaning carries over rather than to do it word for word like some versions I found online. Also, pardon my French. Literally. It’s not as if it’s one of the languages of my country which I’ve been learning since third grade, or my grandmother’s mother tongue. Go ahead, judge me, je ne regrette rien!

“One more,“ Tony whispers, tightening his arm around Bucky’s waist, “just one more.“

Bucky hums in response, a soft exhale against Tony’s neck, following it with the lightest brush of his lips over delicate, warm skin.

“One more,” he agrees dazedly, continuing to sway slowly, one hand cupping the back of Tony’s head, the other splayed possessively over the small of his back. He’s lost count of how many times Tony has made this exact request about half a dozen dances ago. “Just one more.”

The ballroom is almost empty, most of the guests having left hours ago, only their closest friends still comfortably sprawled out over various chairs and benches, finishing off the last of the champagne and giggling tipsily among themselves.

There is rice and confetti everywhere, the floor is sticky with one too many spilled drinks and the candles are little more than burnt-out stumps of wax, the staff already starting in on the clean-up, travelling from table to table with trash bags in their hands.

Bucky doesn’t care, tucks his nose behind Tony’s ear as the music changes once again, trailing his knuckles up and down Tony’s side.

_Le ciel bleu sur nous peut s’effondrer, et la terre peut bien s’écrouler._

“The blue sky over us may collapse on itself,” Tony starts to translate, a quiet breath next to Bucky’s ear that sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. “And the ground can cave in.”

_Peu m’importe si tu m’aimes, je me fous du monde entier._

“Little matters to me if you love me, I couldn’t care less about the whole wide world.”

_Tant qu’l’amour, inond’ra mes matins. Tant que mon corps, frémira sous tes mains._

“As long as love will flood my mornings. As long as my body will tremble under your hands.” A short pause, then Tony adds, grinning into Bucky’s cheek, “In the sexy kind of way, you know.”

“I figured, yeah,” Bucky chuckles back, threading his metal fingers into Tony’s hair for a playful tug.

_Peu m’importent, les problèmes. Mon amour, puisque tu m’aimes._

“All the problems don’t matter to me. My love, because you love me.”

_J’irais jusqu’au bout du monde. Je me ferais teindre en blonde. Si tu me le demandais._

“I would go to the end of the world. I would dye my hair blond. If you asked me to.”

“Not your colour,” Bucky quips, grunting in mock-offense when Tony pinches his butt in retaliation.

_J’irais décrocher la lune. J’irais voler la fortune. Si tu me le demandais._

“I would go take down the moon. I would steal a fortune. If you asked me to.”

“Good thing you’re loaded already,” Bucky points out and Tony nods, says very seriously, “I could probably _buy_ the moon.”

_Je renierais ma patrie. Je renierais mes amis. Si tu me le demandais._

“I would renounce my country. I would renounce my friends. If you asked me to.”

Bucky has to swallow hard at that, feeling it hit almost a little too close to home. Tony notices, of course he does, because Tony is always perceptive when it comes to Bucky, ghosts an apologetic kiss over Bucky’s jaw.

_On peut bien rire de moi, je ferais n’importe quoi. Si tu me le demandais._

“They can laugh about me, I’d do anything. If you asked me to.”

It’s the honest truth, Bucky knows that, and it’s equal parts reassuring and terrifying to be holding a man not only able but also willing to give him anything and everything if Bucky only asks him for it.

_Si un jour, la vie t’arrache à moi. Si tu meurs, que tu sois loin de moi._

“If one day, life tears you away from me. If you die and are far away from me.”

Bucky has to close his eyes at that, against the sudden tears gathering at the corners and threatening to fall at the mere thought of being separated, of a day they might not be together anymore.

_Peu m’importe, si tu m’aimes. Car moi je mourrai aussi._

“If you love me, it doesn’t matter. For I will die, too.”

Bucky can’t help but shudder at that, clutching Tony against his chest and choking out a strangled, “Not helping.”

But Tony hushes him with a trembling hand that slides under Bucky’s suit jacket, taking a steadying hold of his shoulder, Tony’s thumb stroking soothingly over the seam between flesh and metal.

_Nous aurons, pour nous l’éternité. Dans le bleu, de toute l’immensité._

“We will have all eternity for us. In the blue of infinity.”

_Dans le ciel, plus de problèmes. Mon amour, crois-tu qu’on s’aime?_

“No more problems in heaven. My love, do you believe we love each other?”

Tony pulls back at that and Bucky can feel his chin wobble, reaches out for him again but Tony holds up one hand, a silent plea to wait.

Bucky catches that hand in both of his and brings it up to his face, presses a lingering kiss to the new wedding band on Tony’s finger and returns Tony’s gentle, loving smile in kind.

_Dieu réunit ceux qui s’aiment._

“God reunites those who love each other.”

“Tony,” Bucky croaks, wrecked, and Tony moves in again, wipes his fingers over Bucky’s damp cheeks and nudges their noses together, whispering his shaky, “I know, darling, I know,” right into Bucky’s mouth.


	23. Alpha/Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Alpha Bucky and Omega Tony. Maybe them meeting for the first time and instant bonding, then Bucky being ridiculously protective/possessive and Tony trying to accommodate him but is amused and laughing at the whole thing and the avengers' reactions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this prompt: "Could we have a/b/o winteriron, with one of them being really protective, and the other ”annoyed” by it, but really secretly pleased? And Thor finds the whole thing amusing b/c it doesn’t exist on Asgard?"

“Uh,” Tony says in what is, admittedly, not the smoothest possible way of greeting someone, “hi?!”

He thinks a certain amount of confusion is warranted, however, because walking into his living room to find Capsicle’s recently resurrected childhood friend huddled under a blanket on the couch and munching away on leftover Chinese food isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence.

Not even for someone like Tony Stark.

The guy - James? Bucky? Barnes? - freezes, bite of fried rice hovering awkwardly halfway between his plate and mouth, and chances a brief glance up at Tony, then averts his eyes again and hunches his shoulders, all meek submission despite the mild but still very present Alpha scent surrounding him.

“Sorry,” he rasps shyly, nervously fidgeting with his chopsticks. “Steve said- he’s just getting-“ he stammers, then takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated with himself, and starts getting up. “I can leave, it’s- sorry, I didn’t mean to- to intrude or-“

“No, hey, it’s fine,” Tony is quick to assure, slowly walking closer to perch on one of the armchairs. “I expected Cap to show up sooner or later after all that shit that went down in DC, just assumed he’d, you know, call first or something.”

That earns him a blush and some awkward throat clearing. “He- I thought he’d- he made sure this was okay. Sorry, really.”

Tony brushes away the apology, moving over to the couch instead and holding out a hand. “Tony Stark.”

For a long moment, the other man keeps staring down into his lap but then he carefully deposits his plate on the coffee table and, metal fingers curled into a trembling fist, slowly reaches out with his flesh and bone hand.

And sure, Tony isn’t a fan of Alpha posturing and all that shit, it’s annoying and outdated and not sexy in the least, but what’s happening here doesn’t feel right either, is an ugly reminder of what HYDRA is capable of.

They reduced a smart, funny and charming guy, according to Cap, to this broken shell of a man who’s uncomfortable in the generally calming and soothing presence of an Omega, who’s stammering his way through simple small talk and looks like he’s about two seconds away from bolting, hiding himself away and never speaking to Tony ever again.

Which would be a travesty, because he’s fucking gorgeous.

An instinctual whine gets caught in Tony’s throat, soft and pained and too quiet for normal ears to pick up, though not for super soldier hearing, apparently.

Pale grey eyes snap up to Tony’s honey brown ones at the exact same moment as their hands finally make contact, and Tony has only a split second to appreciate them before the colour is pushed aside by widening pupils and the slightest shimmer of gold and-

“Holy shit,” Tony wheezes through the weight of the Alpha suddenly pinning him into the cushions - _hello_ dominant side! - even as he tilts his head back to bare his throat, keening desperately when teeth graze over his pulse. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

That seems to be enough for James - Tony’s going to call him James until they actually get to the introductions - to pull back so quickly he nearly falls off the couch, expression morphing into what looks suspiciously like panic.

And Tony can’t have that, not now, not ever, not on James’ face, so he interrupts whatever James is opening his mouth to say and reels him in again, wrapping his legs around his waist for good measure. “Don’t you dare,” he pants, rubbing his cheek against James’ stubble, “don’t you dare go anywhere right now, sweetheart, you’re staying right here.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand-“ James stutters, obvious confusion written across his unfairly handsome features, but he doesn’t try to move away again, leans in closer instead, curiosity and nature winning out in the end.

Gently cupping his face, Tony turns James’ head enough so they’re looking at each other properly, forcing James to see the colour shift in his own eyes, the unmistakable sign for-

“Mate?” James asks hopefully and bumps Tony’s nose with his own, apprehension about his prosthetic forgotten as he slides the fingers of both hands into Tony’s hair, cradling the back of his head.

“Soulmate,” Tony confirms with a contented hum, arching his back a little to increase contact between them.

“Mine,” James decides, growls almost, and then the teeth are back, sharper this time and breaking skin.

Tony whimpers and eagerly accepts the deep - and slightly bloody - kiss when James relocates his lips to Tony’s, sucking on James’ tongue and playfully biting his plush lower lip and nipping his jaw, only moving apart when the need for oxygen becomes too urgent to ignore.

James immediately buries his face in Tony’s neck, mouthing at the still sluggishly bleeding bond bite which makes Tony shiver and moan helplessly as he dazedly runs a foot up and down James’ calf.

He has just about enough remaining brain power to murmur a, “You- yours and- mine, my Alpha,” and hope that James understands his slurred declaration, but going by the happy-sleepy sounds mumbled against his skin, Tony’s fairly sure they’re on the same page here.

Tony wakes from his peaceful doze what feels like years later when James’ scent - and God, Tony can already smell himself mixed in there and it’s _glorious_ \- changes to something more dangerous, the body on top of his gearing up for a fight.

Blinking owlishly, Tony cranes his neck only to be greeted by Steve, standing a few feet away with a grocery bag hanging from one arm and his jaw practically on the floor.

“At least we’re still fully clothed?” Tony tries, unable to keep himself from grinning goofily, then swats at James’ butt when he sneers at Steve and chides, “Stop it, caveman.”

James grunt but settles down again, tucking his nose behind Tony’s ear with a pouty huff.

“Small mercies,” Steve sighs and flees into the kitchen.

***

James isn’t a typical Alpha.

For the first couple of weeks after their spontaneous bonding, Tony is incredibly wary. He keeps waiting for the switch to flip, for the sweetly attentive outer layer to melt away and reveal the jealous and controlling centre, now that the bonding pheromones have worn off and the honeymoon phase is officially over.

But nothing happens.

Tony startles whenever his workshop door opens and James steps inside, expecting him to be angry or yell or demand that Tony pay him more attention or roll over and present because James is in the mood for some sexy times.

What he gets instead is sandwiches and coffee, James draping himself over his back and asking what he’s working on, pressing kisses into Tony’s hair or digging his knuckles into the tense muscles in his shoulders.

As a precaution, Tony starts being careful around the rest of the team, especially Steve as the only other Alpha in residence. But then Steve has questions about a new app and Tony flops down on the couch next to him without thinking, pushes into his space and starts explaining and teasing and playfully shoving at him when Steve banters right back.

Which, of course, is the moment James walks up to them, making Tony freeze mid-motion because he isn’t stupid, he knows how this must look and it’s his fault, he should have known better, Ty has taught him better and-

And James takes a look at Steve’s tablet, snorting and making a quip about Steve’s age showing when it comes to technology, cackling as he ducks away from the hand Steve flaps at his face and dropping a kiss to Tony’s forehead before snuggling up close to Tony’s other side.

Tony buries his face in James’ neck, equal parts relieved and confused while he silently tries to make sense of what exactly just happened.

They fuck later that night, and that’s another thing: the sex.

James can be rough and Tony isn’t opposed to that, being manhandled a little by a super hot super soldier is definitely a turn-on, but it isn’t always like that. It isn’t always about getting off, about release, more often than not they _make love_ , as cheesy as it sounds.

So it’s only natural for Tony to get curious, to test his boundaries, pushing and provoking and waiting for James to get fed up and just hold him down and take what he wants.

“I want to be inside you,” Tony whispers one night, hand curled around James’ dick and stroking softly, and James twitches in his grip, kisses Tony’s chin and moans, _“Yes!”_

But it doesn’t fully sink in that the James Tony is getting to know some more every day, kind and patient and snarky James, is the real thing until Tony wakes up sweating and panting, already halfway into the first day of his heat, nearly two months into their relationship.

Tony’s eyes snap open and he kicks away the sheets, groaning at the way they rub along his oversensitive skin, the only saving grace James’ delicious scent, more prominent than usual and alleviating at least some of the almost unbearable need coursing through Tony’s body.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Tony finds his mate curled up on the armchair in the corner and whines, holding out his arms and making grabby hands at him, frowning when James makes no move to come and join him.

“How are you feeling, darlin’?” James asks instead, earning himself a disbelieving scowl.

“Would feel a lot better,” Tony breathes, crawling down the bed and reaching out to snag a handful of James’ sweatpants, “if you were over here.”

James still doesn’t budge. “Tony, hold on,” he says instead, stroking a thumb over the back of Tony’s hand. “Do you want me to stay with you? To share your heat with you?”

All Tony can think of replying to that is a slightly dumbfounded, “You’re my Alpha.”

“We should have talked about this sooner,” James says but doesn’t push Tony away when Tony climbs into his lap and nuzzles at his cheek. “I didn’t want to assume, just ‘cause we’re bonded-“

“But you’re my Alpha,” Tony repeats and James sighs, wrapping his arms around Tony and allowing Tony to suck a bruise into his shoulder, which is all kinds of nice.

“Is that what you thought?” James wants to know, trailing kisses up the side of Tony’s face. “That I’d just take? Without askin’ what you want? What you need?”

Tony stills. “Maybe?”

“As soon as this is over,” James says even as he stands, Tony yelping but quickly wrapping his legs around his waist, “you and me are having a serious discussion about all of this. You hear me?”

“But. Later?” Tony asks, grinning triumphantly when he’s tossed back on the bed with James rolling right on top of him.

So, no. James isn’t a typical Alpha.

Unless when he is, but Tony really doesn’t mind those times as much as he thought he would.

Sure, he acts annoyed and huffs a lot, snaps at James that he’s a grown-ass man and can take care of his own shit, thank you very much, sulking around the penthouse and sniffing occasionally to make sure James is aware of his continued peevishness until James apologises, all puppy dog eyes and ridiculously cute pout that are impossible to resist.

But secretly - which isn’t very secretly at all - Tony revels in his Alpha’s protectiveness.

And is amused by it, because somehow, James always finds the most creative and entertaining outlet for his urges.

***

“What is going on here?” Steve demands and Tony reluctantly tears his eyes away from the man currently being pinned against the hallway wall by a metal hand, feet dangling a few inches above the floor.

“Tiny disagreement,” he shrugs and offers Cap his most innocent smile, only to get the Face of Righteous Disappointment in return.

“I believe friend James took offense to this man’s request to 'control his bitch',” Thor supplies very seriously, even doing the air quotes, and Tony has to look down at his feet to suppress his snickers. “I do not understand, Captain, I did not think that pets were allowed inside this establishment?”

It’s Clint who cracks first, snorting and guffawing and effectively earning himself all of Steve’s angry attention and an irritated, “Why aren’t you doing anything to diffuse the situation?”

Clint raises an eyebrow and points at his phone. “I’m filming.”

“I do not-“ Thor starts again, brow furrowed.

“Blatant sexism, Point Break,” Tony explains and claps him on the back.

Thor still seems confused about the basic concept, but nevertheless levels an almighty glare at the dangling guy. “That man dared to insult you at your own festivities, Man of Iron?”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupts, probably wisely, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning to Tony when James ignores him completely. “Tony, that’s enough.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony mutters but reaches out to gently touch James’ lower back. “James, love, let him down.”

A split second later, the man crumples to the floor, gasping and croaking, through his coughing, “I’m sorry, Mr Stark.”

Cap is shaking his head as they walk away, Tony’s arm linked through James’ and James smiling as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and just before they turn the corner Tony can hear Clint wail, “No, give it back! I swear I wasn’t going to put it up on Youtube!”


	24. Face of Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine everyone talking about Cap's face of disappointment, but it turns out Tony's is actually the most crushing. Mostly do to the fact that since Tony doesn't usually expect much from people, so his "disappointed face" is also his 'resigned face'."

Steve is a manipulative little shit, and it had taken Bucky all of five minutes of knowing him to figure that out.

“What’s all this ruckus about, then?” Old Missus Fairweather had yelled down from her kitchen window when Bucky was picking the coughing, scrawny kid off the ground, scowling disapprovingly at her upturned bins and making Bucky wince in anticipation of a good scolding. “You two do that?”

Before Bucky’d been able to come up with an excuse, the tiny blond kid’s eyes had grown wide and damp, lower lip wobbling dangerously as he wiped a hand through the blood on his face and mumbled a contrite, “We’re real sorry, ma’am, ‘t was an accident, honest.”

And much to Bucky’s delighted surprise, Old Missus Fairweather’s features had softened at the first hint of tears on the other kid’s face, her expression more kind than Bucky’d ever seen it before. Or after that, as a matter of fact.

“Don’t cry now, love,” she’d tisked, making shooing motions at them with her hands. “It’s all right, no harm done. Come on, move along you two.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” they’d chorused in unison before darting off out of the back alley and down the street, only stopping once they’d reached the corner of Bucky’s own block.

Still panting, Bucky’d turned to the other kid to ask if he was hurt bad, he was small and bleeding all over the place, after all, only to find the kid grinning back at him, too big head held high and bony chest puffed out proudly.

“Always works with the old ladies,” the kid had said, holding out his hand. “I’m Steve and I had ‘em on the ropes.”

And that’s how Bucky had gotten himself a best friend.

They’d been inseparable after that day, so much so that people had simply started calling them _Bucky and Steve_ and not even bothered to distinguish between the two of them anymore, always assuming that where one of them was, the other could be found, too, and being right more often than not.

Then there’d been the Depression, schoolyard bullies, Steve’s many close calls every winter, the summer Steve hadn’t talked to Bucky for a full seventeen hours - a record - because he was insulted that Bucky’d thought telling Steve that he liked men would mean Steve kicking him out of their shared apartment and not Steve acting as if admitting to being queer was a perfectly normal thing to do on a random Sunday afternoon, all their money problems, Bucky’d gotten drafted and Steve’d let some crazy scientists experiment on him so he could follow, only for Bucky to fall off a train and Steve to crash a plane into the ocean.

And now here they are, seventy years and a shitload of traumatic experiences later, and while a lot of things have changed, some have stayed and, Bucky thinks, probably always will stay the same.

Like Steve being a manipulative little shit.

The best thing about it? No one’s figured it out yet, and Bucky sure as hell isn’t going to tell, no sir. If a tower full of spies and assassins and geniuses and alien Gods haven’t caught on to how Steve’s anything but innocent _aw shucks, golly gee_ routine is nothing more than the easiest way to get whatever he wants, well, then who’s Bucky to ruin all the fun?

But having learnt long ago how to read when people are faking it does have one major disadvantage, namely that it works on the rest of the team, too.

So Bucky knows when Steve’s _Exasperated Glare_ is actually an _About To Burst Out Laughing Glare_ , and how he means _You’re A Greedy Snob And I Want To Stop Talking To You Right Now_ when he greets yet another gala attendant with a polite _Ma’am_ , but he also sees the strain in Tony’s smiles and the nervous twitch in his hands as he schmoozes his way around the ballroom.

After that night, Bucky starts paying more attention and boy, Tony can bullshit like Bucky’s never seen anyone bullshit before.

It isn’t bad at first, and Bucky figures that all of them have their issues and problems and reasons to not always be forthcoming with their troubles and feelings, to withhold and omit things, so he keeps quiet about his discovery.

He keeps quiet, but Bucky isn’t fooled.

And anyway, he doesn’t have to _say_ anything in order to help.

***

“When’s the last time you slept?” Bucky asks nonchalantly when Tony stumbles into the kitchen, dark smudges under his eyes and mumbling to himself. “’Cause honestly, Stark, you look like shit.”

Tony blinks at him as if he’s only just realised Bucky’s there, sitting at the bar, and Bucky reaches out, drawing a finger through a smear of oil on his cheek.

“Have a shower and go to bed, Tony.”

“Can’t, things to do,” Tony yawns to cover the telltale downturn of his lips - he’s having nightmares again - and goes to refill his coffee mug, nearly falling over his own feet in the process.

Bucky rolls his eyes and pulls out the stool next to his. “Sit with me for a few minutes, at least. I feel pathetic, having breakfast all on my own.”

Tony grumbles but eventually does as asked, his head a heavy but not uncomfortable weight on Bucky’s shoulder a mere few minutes later as he snores softly into Bucky’s neck.

Bucky grins to himself and finishes his eggs before carrying Tony back to his room.

***

“Anyone hurt?” Steve demands, eyes flickering over the team as they all shake their heads, gaze landing on Tony last. “Iron Man?”

“Little banged up but fine,” comes Tony’s distorted voice from behind the faceplate.

He straightens his shoulders - trying to appear more confident and hide how much pain he’s in - and gives a cocky wave before lifting off.

Bucky goes straight down to the workshop as soon as he gets back to the tower, and spends the next hour setting Tony’s shoulder and pulling glass shards out of his back.

***

“You know we only keep you around for the money and gadgets,” Clint teases, throwing a handful of pop corn at Tony and crooning encouragingly when Tony actually manages to catch some of it in his mouth.

“’Course I do,” Tony grins and chucks a cushion at Clint’s head in retaliation, his throat working furiously - keeping down the question if Clint really meant it - for a moment before he gets up to get himself another drink.

Bucky grabs his wrist when he comes back and tugs him down into his own armchair, whispering, “Wanna go mess up Clint’s arrow index later?”

Tony stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable, but then he smiles and nods, leaning into Bucky’s side for the remainder of the movie.

***

Bucky is laughing and batting at Tony’s face, shoving him playfully when Steve blurts, annoyed, “Just get on with it already!” and everything stops.

“What?” Bucky asks, confused, sticking his tongue out at Natasha when she does her arched-eyebrows thing at him.

“All that UST,” she sighs and Bucky startles when Tony jumps up from the couch, movements uncoordinated and jerky.

“You-“ he croaks, glaring daggers at Steve, then whirls on Natasha. “I told you that in confidence, you- Christ, fuck!”

Frowning, Bucky looks up at Tony, starts with a careful, “Tony-“ but cuts himself off at the expression on the other man’s face.

It’s one Bucky hasn’t seen before, a _I’m So Disappointed Right Now, Srsly_ at first glance, which turns into pure, heartbreaking _Resignation_ the longer Bucky looks at him and-

Oh.

_Oh!_

And then Tony turns on his heels and storms out of the living room, ignoring Steve’s sheepish apology and Natasha calling after him not to be such an oblivious dumbass.

“You guys suck, you know that?” Bucky snaps and shoots them both a withering look as he gets up to follow, knees weak and heart beating wildly.

Tony doesn’t answer when Bucky knocks on his door but Bucky knows he’s there, so he rests his forehead against the wood, unable to suppress his slightly giddy smile as he says, just loud enough for Tony to hear, “I like you, too.”

That’s met with silence but then the door jerks open, Bucky only just catching himself on the frame, and there’s Tony and he’s got his chin lifted haughtily even though his eyes say _Please Don’t Make Me Hope For Nothing_ , and Bucky closes the distance between them to press their lips together.

“I like you a lot, actually,” Bucky breathes against Tony’s mouth and Tony says, “I know.”

And Bucky hears the _Please Don’t Break My Heart_ in those two short words, kisses Tony again and promises, “Never.”


	25. Dom/sub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I loved the sub!Bucky fic! could you write one where Tony is the sub instead? But Tony suffers alone overtime and Bucky accidentally comes into the workshop when Tony's dropping?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this prompt by [JensenAckles13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JensenAckles13): "I really like Sub Tony, and while I’m new to shipping this whole WinterIron thing, I do think Bucky would definitely be a Dom. So I was wondering if maybe you could do a thing where Tony gets reckless on a mission and almost dies and then reverts back to his normal snarky self, but when he and Bucky get alone, maybe Bucky says something in a certain tone and Tony just drops to his knees and Buckys just sort of shocked cause what? And tonys scared Buckys gonna leave cause he’s mad and angst and then fluff and cuddles to make it better?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky knows he should probably slow down, take a moment and a few deep breaths to calm himself, but he’s furious and worried sick, adrenaline still pumping relentlessly through his veins, and being rational isn’t exactly high on his list of priorities right now.

Had it taken that stupid, reckless, irresponsible, self-sacrificing idiot just half a second longer, Tony would now be lying buried under about five hundred tonnes of steel and rubble and, Bucky’s pretty sure about this, not even the Iron Man suit is able to withstand that sort of damage.

In short; Tony had almost died, again, and then, to make things even worse, all he’d done was grin cockily at a screaming Cap and throw the rest of the team a sloppy salute, coupled with a, “Later, guys,” before flying off.

Just like that.

After almost dying.

_Again!_

So, instead of following what the others seem to think is the best course of action and leave Tony to whatever the hell he’s usually up to after a battle and have dinner without him, Bucky is storming right down to the workshop, punching in his access code with enough force to make the touchpad groan under his fingers, and pushing inside before the doors have even fully opened.

“What the fuck was that?” he demands, dimly aware of and not caring about the inappropriately low and growly edge to his voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

And yeah, maybe Bucky’s overreacting, and yeah, he’s definitely overstepping by throwing Dom vibes all over the place, but damn it, he’s had to watch the man he’s irrevocably, pathetically in love with almost get crushed underneath a goddamned skyscraper today, so no, he really doesn’t give a shit about manners or the fact that Tony isn’t his to protect and get scared for, screw it all!

His outburst is followed by a beat of startled silence, a shirtless Tony staring at him all wide-eyed and trembling with an ice pack clutched uselessly in his hand, and then Tony makes a quiet, desperate noise in the back of his throat and drops to his knees right there on the concrete floor of the shop, fingers curled around his own ankles, offering himself up for the taking.

Which doesn’t make any sense, none at all, because that’s a sub gesture and everyone knows Tony Stark is a Neutral, not a Dom or a sub or even a Switch, a Neutral like the majority of the population, a Neutral who isn’t slave to his biology, a Neutral who doesn’t care for people with inclinations, a Neutral who doesn’t kneel for-

A frightened, questioning whine makes Bucky blink back into the moment to see Tony, gaze lowered shyly and _shit_ , this is actually happening, this is real.

“Tony,” Bucky says dumbly, then takes a step closer once he realises how his lack of a reaction must look like rejection to Tony.

Society might have changed while Bucky was out of commission, but you don’t leave a sub who’s down on his knees hanging, Bucky is sure of that much. Subs don’t just offer themselves to the first Dom they come across, something like this requires massive amounts of trust or has to be forced-

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, instincts taking over when Tony whimpers at that, closing the last bit of distance between them and sliding his hand to the back of Tony’s neck, squeezing softly and swallowing hard around the uncomfortable lump in his throat when Tony hums and leans into the touch.

He’s made Tony kneel against his will and he’ll face the consequences for it, but still, Bucky can’t just walk away now and let him suffer through this alone, not when Tony’s quickly slipping under, that would be beyond cruel.

“Tony,” Bucky says again, hooking a finger under Tony’s chin to tilt his head back. “Hey, Tony, look at me.”

It takes several seconds of sluggish blinking, but then Tony meets his eyes, the adoring smile spreading across his face making Bucky’s insides twist painfully.

God, he fucked up so bad.

“Tony, is there someone I need to call?” he asks, stopping immediately when he notices his thumb stroking over the sensitive skin behind Tony’s ear. “Do you have a Dom or a Domme?”

“No,” Tony mumbles, nuzzling Bucky’s hip, “want you.”

“I wish,” Bucky blurts, wincing when Tony stills and turns enough to peek up at him, frowning slightly.

“Want you,” Tony insists, hands coming to rub at the back of Bucky’s thighs. “Don’t you want me back?”

Bucky groans, half out of pleasure at Tony’s breath ghosting across the narrow expanse of bared skin above his waistband, half out of guilt and frustration about being in this situation.

“I’m yours,” Tony goes on, continuing his ministrations, completely oblivious to Bucky’s growing unease. “You’re going to take care of me because I’m yours.”

“For now,” Bucky acquiesces, hating himself for doing this but figuring that abandoning Tony in his current state would be even worse.

He’ll take care of Tony tonight, help him through this, and tomorrow morning Tony can yell at him or call the cops or beat the crap out of him, whatever he wants. Bucky deserves all of it and more for what he’s done here.

“Can you get up for me, Tony?” he asks, assisting by sliding his hands under Tony’s arms and pulling him to his feet, then catching him around the waist when his knees buckle.

“Sorry,” Tony whispers, embarrassed, but Bucky gently shushes him with a shake of his head and adjusts his grip, lifting him into his arms bridal style.

Which Tony seems content with, burying his face in Bucky’s neck with a happy little noise, one arm looping around Bucky’s neck for support.

Bucky carries him over to the elevator where he hesitates for a moment, debating whether to take Tony up to the familiarity of his own penthouse but eventually deciding against it and pushing the button for his own floor instead.

The least he can do is spare Tony from having to remember all of this every time he steps into his own living quarters from now on.

He carefully deposits Tony on his own bed with the order to, “Stay,” before fleeing into the bathroom to collapse against the counter, breath coming in harsh, shaking gasps until he gets himself back under control again.

Once he does, Bucky rummages around the cabinets for his first aid kit and a bowl, filling the latter with warm water and tossing a washcloth into it, bringing everything back into the bedroom where Tony’s waiting patiently, face lightening up as soon as Bucky’s back within reach.

“Turn onto your stomach, please,” Bucky starts, a little surprised at how eagerly Tony does as he’s told, such a contrast to his usually defiant and cheeky attitude. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Bucky asks, “You were patching yourself up when I interrupted. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

There’s a dark bruise already forming there, so Bucky expects it when Tony says, “Shoulder.”

“Anywhere else?”

“Cuts,” Tony mumbles and Bucky can see those, too, littered across his back and arms but only superficial, thanks to some probably extremely stressed out guardian angel who definitely deserves a raise and a vacation after this.

“Thank you,” Bucky says and takes the cloth out of the water, ringing it out. “I’m going to clean you up first, but I need you to keep very still. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Tony shudders at the nickname, nodding enthusiastically, and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, hard, because he had _not_ meant to say that.

Thankfully, Tony has done most of the actual washing himself already and it only takes a couple of swipes to get rid of the rest of the grime and sweat.

Tony mewls in protest when Bucky removes his hands, the sound transforming into an appreciative moan that does all sorts of funny things to Bucky’s heart when Bucky trails a finger up and down his spine.

Bucky keeps that up for several minutes until Tony is completely relaxed and boneless, not daring to give anything more than this simple touch, then he grabs one of the tubes out of the kit.

“This is going to be cold,” he warns, squirting some of the gel into his palm, “and then it’s going to get really warm. But it’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

Another nod from Tony and then a soft sight when Bucky starts rubbing the gel into his skin, his body pliant under Bucky’s hands.

Once he’s finished with the bruise, Bucky puts band-aids on the worst of the cuts and scrapes, then instructs Tony to wait again as he goes to put away the supplies and grab one of his own shirts for Tony to wear so he won’t get cold.

He helps Tony sit up and slip the fabric over his head, smoothing it down and tugging it into place. Cupping Tony’s face between his hands, Bucky smiles and says, “You behaved so well for me, Tony, you were so, so good for me.”

Tony melts into him at that, making Bucky wonder how often he gets to do this, go under and have somebody take care of him, if this simplest of praise is enough to make him shiver and submit even more beautifully.

Then again, given the fact that no one even knew Tony was a sub, the answer to that is most likely _not often enough._

Nimble fingers trying to unfasten the cord of his sweatpants interrupt Bucky’s musings, snapping him back into the present, and he quickly removes Tony’s hands, holding them tightly between his own.

“No,” he says firmly, feeling like a total asshole at the heartbroken look that brings to Tony’s face. “You’re hurt, Tony, you need to rest,” he hedges, but allows Tony to snuggle closer. “I want you to rest and get better, okay? Can you do that for me, Tony?”

“Yes,” Tony breathes, then lifts his head, expression hopeful, and asks, “Will you stay?”

“C’mere,” Bucky smiles and scoots back on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard and pulling the pliant Tony against his chest, tucking the blankets snugly around them both and guiding Tony’s head to his shoulder. “Comfortable, sweetheart?”

All he gets in answer to that renewed slip-up is a sleepy but satisfied murmur and Tony nosing lazily at his neck, practically radiating contentment.

“Okay,” Bucky sighs and, when he’s sure Tony has drifted off, places a chaste kiss in his hair. “Okay.”

Despite being tense and anxious, Bucky falls asleep in no time with the warm weight of Tony cuddled up to him, woken hours later by a mouth being pressed to his left cheek, then the right and, finally, his nose.

“Hi,” Tony beams at him when Bucky opens his eyes, leaning in again and definitely going for Bucky’s lips this time, brows drawing together in confusion when Bucky turns his face away. “Did- have I- did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Bucky reassures immediately at the wobble in Tony’s voice, unable to meet the other man’s gaze. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Tony wants to know, still frowning, and sits back over Bucky’s legs, straddling his lap in a way that doesn’t exactly help Bucky with keeping a clear head.

Bucky grimaces, waving his hand around helplessly. “Yesterday. This, all of this. I didn’t mean to make you submit, I swear. I was angry and I didn’t know, not that that’s an excuse, but I didn’t mean to-“

“Hey, slow down, you didn’t make me do anything, that’s not how this works,” Tony interrupts with a chuckle, brushing a few strands of wayward hair away from Bucky’s forehead and rolling his eyes at what Bucky assumes is a highly dubious look on his own face. “You can’t make me submit if I don’t want it, all right? Those are fairytales, outdated, what Doms used tell each other to, I don’t know, boost their egos or feel more dominant or whatever, don’t ask me. But it’s not true, okay? Doesn’t work. You did nothing wrong, I promise.”

Bucky’s still sceptical, though. “You never even hinted at wanting me before this,” he points out reasonably. “No one even knows you’re a sub.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Tony shrugs but doesn’t move away, settling in more permanently by possessively placing his hands on Bucky’s sides. “But that’s on me, not you. I, uh, I don’t have the best of experiences with Doms, so, yeah. That’s a thing.” 

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I was scared,” Tony admits, smiling faintly when Bucky reaches out to caress his cheek. “I’m not what most Doms want, I talk back and mouth off, I’m too needy but also cold, sometimes, I’m independent socially and financially, and I like being in charge of my life outside of scenes. I’m not what most Doms want, I’m flawed, as I’ve been told repeatedly.”

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky snorts, laughing at the offended spluttering that earns him. “You’re funny and clever and gorgeous,” he lists, winding his arms around Tony’s waist. “I wanted you long before I knew what you are. And I still do. Me, the guy with the scrambled brains and metal arm that frizzles the microwave whenever I get within five feet of it. The Dom who gets sick from watching a little bit of spanking, believe me, I’ve tried. We’re all _flawed_ , Tony, no one’s perfect. But I like you just the way you are. I like you a lot, actually.”

Tony pulls a face, trying to look disgusted at the outpouring of feelings but failing pretty spectacularly due to the blush creeping up his neck and brining colour to his ears and cheeks. “Sap.”

“Shut up,” Bucky orders half-heartedly.

“Make me,” Tony sniffs haughtily, but Bucky can feel him grin when he arches his back and brings their mouths together.


	26. Hoity Toity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine that Tony has to go to some hoity toity party, and he takes Bucky. Bucky freaks out because he's forcefully reminded that Tony's a wealthy, high class man who's actually way out of his league. Also, someone implies that Bucky's a golddigger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with this prompt: "Whenever Bucky is cold, Tony curls around him like an over protective cat-shield."

The wooden counter groans under Bucky’s hands and he quickly lets go, chest heaving with too fast, hitching breaths.

Looking into the mirror above the sink reveals tense features with a sweaty brow and upper lip, so he turns on the faucet and waits for the water to grow as cold as possible before cupping his hands under the stream and splashing his face.

It has become perfectly clear over the last couple of hours that Bucky doesn’t belong here, in these circles with these people, and going by the upturned noses and the whispering behind his back, they’re all painfully aware of it, too.

Bucky doesn’t know the first thing about mergers or stocks or who’s had a baby with whom recently, and he really, really doesn’t give a shit, either.

But his stammering and awkward fumbling around topics that go over his head hasn’t even been the worst or most embarrassing thing to happen this evening, oh no, the prize for the conversation that nearly sent Bucky into a full blown panic attack goes to General Whatshisname and his ramblings about the Cold War, going so far as to ask if Bucky’d been there.

On the other side. As the asset.

Shuddering, Bucky turns off the water and pulls some paper towels out of the dispenser, dabbing at his face with his eyes pressed firmly closed, trying to compose himself.

If it were up to him, he’d stay in here and play Angry Birds on his phone until it was time to leave, but he’s not doing this for himself, he’s doing this for Tony, and the last thing Bucky wants is to make Tony look bad in front of his business friends by hiding in the bathroom and showing everyone how right they are to think about him the way they do.

“Get it together, Barnes,” he tells his reflection, straightening his back, pushing back his shoulders and giving himself a curt nod before turning around and unlocking the door.

The moment he steps out into the hall, two weights attach themselves to his arms, steering him away from the main ballroom and down the corridor to a smaller lounge filled with smoking, drinking and laughing people instead.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” purrs the lady on his right, tucking a strand of yellowish blonde hair behind her ear, “we have just the thing for you.”

They deposit him on a couch that’s barely wide enough for the three of them, not that either of his new companions seems to mind being pressed flush against him, the leering redhead on his left placing a hand indecently high on his thigh.

“No reason for you to bore yourself with the geezers when you have us to play with,” she drawls huskily, frowning and pursing her lips when Bucky plucks her hand away from his leg and drops it in her own lap.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but-“ Bucky begins, only to be interrupted by a exaggerated sigh from blondie.

“You don’t have to pretend with us, honey,” she smiles, an expression as fake as they come “We all understand each other here.”

Bucky just stares, mouth working furiously but not actually producing any sounds.

The redhead studies him for a long moment, then snaps her fingers at a young man leaning against the bar across the room, waving him over. “Are you one of the actually gay ones?” she asks Bucky as she reaches into her purse, fishing out a baggie with several tiny white pills.

“Yes?” Bucky ventures, confused, head swivelling to look from one woman to the other and back again. “I’m with Tony? Tony Stark? I thought everyone knew, we-“

“People do what they have to do,” blondie shrugs, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Bar Guy. “Now, Jasper here, he’s married to Widow Trent and _he_ is as gay as they come.”

“Guilty as charged,” Jasper chuckles and winks at Bucky, all sultry and flirty.

Bucky blinks at him. “Then why are you-“

“Why do you think?” Jasper laughs, the women joining in, giggling tipsily. “The old hag has some arm candy to show off and me, well, I get whatever I want, everything I could possibly wish for.”

The pieces finally click together and Bucky jumps up, bringing some distance between himself and these people. “I’m not with Tony for the money,” he snaps, aghast and offended. “I’m with him for him. I love him.”

“Of course you do, baby,” the redhead clucks, blondie nodding mock-seriously, and Bucky’s had enough.

With a tight, “Excuse me,” he stalks out of the room and down the hall, not even stopping to retrieve his jacket or call a cab, enjoying the cool night air on his overheated skin, clearing some of the fog out of his head.

The walk back to the tower takes the better part of an hour, but Bucky’s too numb to care about anything apart from getting home and into his bed right now, away from pretentious snobs and their presumptuous, greedy other halves.

He instructs JARVIS not to wake him unless an Avengers emergency alarm is triggered, carelessly shucking his expensive suit as he goes, and crawling under the covers in nothing but his briefs, wrapping himself up tightly in the blankets and falling into an exhausted, restless sleep.

***

Bucky startles awake to the sensation of cold liquid slowly freezing him from the inside out, surging up into a sitting position and flailing wildly for a few seconds before he registers a low, steady murmur of, “You’re okay, you’re safe, darling, I’ve got you.”

With a tired sigh, he allows Tony to pull him close, burrowing into his chest and pressing his nose into the crook of his neck, trembling fingers curling into Tony’s sleep shirt.

“Welcome back,” Tony whispers, the smile audible in his voice, and kisses the top of Bucky’s head, one warm hand cupping the back of his neck.

He throws one leg over both of Bucky’s and an arm over Bucky’s waist, folding around him protectively, gently rocking them both, a calming back and forth.

“You vanished,” Tony murmurs around a yawn, nuzzling Bucky’s temple.

Bucky winces, realising only now that he’d pretty much abandoned Tony at the gala. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” Tony says, moving his fingers up from Bucky’s neck and threading them into his hair instead. “Told you we could leave if it was too much.”

“’M still sorry,” Bucky croaks, voice breaking a little as the evening’s events come rushing back. “I meant to be good for you.”

Perceptive as always when it comes to Bucky, Tony moves back just enough so he can hook a finger under Bucky’s chin and tilt back his head, forcing Bucky to meet his eyes. “Did something happen? At the party?”

Bucky is about to deny it, but Tony quirks a brow at him, putting on his _‘don’t bullshit a bulshitter’_ expression, making Bucky’s lips tug up into a weak smile despite the uncomfortable knots in his stomach.

“I’m probably overreacting,” he starts, nevertheless relaying his awful discussion with the general and his toilet abduction, finishing with, “So I left, walked home to clear my head.”

“You can’t listen to these people, darling,” Tony insists, kissing Bucky’s nose. “They’re all awful and don’t know how blessed I am to have you.”

When Bucky doesn’t say anything to that, Tony pulls him close again, tucking Bucky’s head under his chin and tightening his hold on him.

“I wake up next to you every morning and the first thing, the very first thing I wonder is if today’s the day you’ll notice how far out of my league you are,” he admits quietly, unceremoniously clapping a hand over Bucky’s mouth when Bucky tries to protest that ridiculous statement. “Hush, darling, I’m talking. I worry about this, all the time, it never goes away. But then you open your eyes, your beautiful, incredible eyes, and you know what the first thing is that _you_ do? You smile at me. You smile at me like me being the first thing you see is the best thing to ever happen to you. And that’s how I know that I’m being stupid. I might forget about it occasionally, about that smile, but it doesn’t matter, because every morning, without fail, you remind me again.”

“Sap,” Bucky accuses shakily, kissing Tony’s palm until it is removed, then arching up to do the same to Tony’s mouth.

“Only for you,” Tony hums and Bucky smiles, nips at his bottom lip and breathes, “I love you.”

“I know,” Tony says, moving back to grin at Bucky. “And not just for my money, I hear. Lucky me!”

Bucky groans and chucks a pillow at his stupid, snickering face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Important announcement:** the [Winteriron Holiday Exchange](http://winterironholidayexchange.tumblr.com/post/130228171717/winteriron-holiday-exchange-2015) is officially a go! You don't need to write a _Faust_ or draw a _Mona Lisa_ , there's something for everyone. Make someone's Christmas a little brighter with some winteriron love, and get an awesome gift in return.
> 
> (And you don't even need a tumblr account to sign up! Yay!)


	27. Wall Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Bucky fucking Tony against a wall, much to Tony's delight. That's it, that's the prompt :D"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the prompt wasn't clear enough, let this be another warning: there will be some porn here. And by some, I mean that all of it will be porn. 500 words of porn. Yay!

A particularly well-aimed thrust has Tony gasp, fingers tightening around Bucky’s and mouth falling open against Bucky’s temple, breath hitching and hips starting to lose their steady rhythm.

Pushing his nose into Bucky’s sweat-soaked hair, Tony inhales deeply, moaning at the familiar, heady scent that is uniquely Bucky, clenching instinctively and eliciting a low, possessive growl from the man buried inside him.

One of Bucky’s hands moves from where it’s pinning Tony’s back against the wall, wandering lower to tweak and play with an already oversensitive nipple, making Tony twitch and whimper, before settling on Tony’s upper thigh and lifting, up and higher until Tony’s knee is hooked over Bucky’s shoulder, allowing Bucky to slide in deeper still.

Tony’s freed hand finds Bucky’s cheek, cupping it almost reverently, Bucky’s eyes fluttering open at the contact and finding Tony’s, his gaze filled with love and lust in equal measures, pupils blown wide around a thin ring of the usual icy grey.

Gaze never leaving Tony’s face, Bucky tilts his head and presses a kiss to Tony’s ankle, nipping at the bone and sucking at the skin before soothing the whole area with soft, tender licks that have Tony pant and itch for more, tugging Bucky closer to bring their lips together.

Bucky begins to move again, swallowing the tiny mewls Tony can’t keep back now that Bucky is relentlessly hitting that spot inside him.

Tony’s pliant, boneless, held up only by Bucky in front of him and the wall at his back, completely at Bucky’s mercy, exactly the way he likes it, craves it.

When Bucky’s hand relocates yet again to fist Tony’s cock, Tony knows it’s over. He moans, wanton and needy and close, so close, through one, two, three jerks and then he’s coming over Bucky’s fingers and his belly, head thrown back in absolute bliss.

And Bucky doesn’t let him go, keeps stroking until pleasure and pain are one indistinguishable thing, enjoys how Tony’s body tightens for him, cradles him, sinking his teeth into Tony’s neck as he comes, a warm pulse inside Tony that has Tony sigh in satisfaction.

Everything after that is hazy until Tony is carefully spread out on pleasantly cool sheets, humming his content as Bucky cleans him, runs the washcloth over his arms and chest, rubs at his wrists and massages his legs.

Tony is almost asleep, only brought back from the edge when Bucky teases a finger back inside him, pushing his spill back inside Tony, where it belongs.

Tony yawns, and when he holds out his arms, Bucky comes to him eagerly, rearranges them so he’s wrapped protectively around Tony, one hand on the small of Tony's back and the other holding Tony’s head against his chest, fingers scratching lightly over Tony’s scalp.

Feeling Bucky’s lips pressed firmly against his forehead, Tony falls asleep.


	28. Oblivious Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Bucky being hopelessly in love with Tony and everyone in the teams helping him court Tony but Tony's oblivious and when he's about to give up, Tony shyly asked him out on a date. (give me adorably oblivious Tony please)"

“Hey, uh, Tony?” Bucky asks hesitantly, worrying at his bottom lip and wringing his hands. “You busy?”

“Never too busy for you, gorgeous.” Tony grins, swivelling his chair around and waving away his holo screen to look at Bucky. “What’s up?”

Bucky’s stomach does a little flip at the casual use of the endearment, but he straightens his back, clears his throat and ignores the blush he can feel creeping up his neck. “Do you, maybe, wanna go get some burgers down at Patsy’s?”

Tony actually moans at that, eyes sliding shut, making Bucky squirm and try to will his body not to do anything embarrassing like whimper. Or pop a semi.

“Yeah, sounds perfect,” Tony decides and jumps up, clapping Bucky on the shoulder on his way to the door. “I’ll let the others know.”

“That’s not-“ Bucky starts but Tony’s already sprinting up the stairs, calling for Clint and Tasha.

Sighing, Bucky hangs his head and follows.

***

“I don’t think I’m the best person to give you advice on this,” Bruce says, clearly uncomfortable in the aftermath of Bucky’s outpouring of feelings. “Dating isn’t really my forte.”

“But you’re his best friend,” Bucky argues and no, he’s not whining because he’s a grown man and a trained assassin and has survived decades of torture and brainwashing, so. He can totally handle this little crush, no big deal.

Bruce takes off his glasses, carelessly cleaning them on his shirt while he’s thinking. “Do you have any common interests? Something that could act as a conversation starter?”

“I like cars?” Bucky offers and Bruce nods, considering this.

Two hours later, Bucky is standing in Tony’s garage in a pair of old jeans and a sleeveless shirt, Tony next to him and babbling excitedly about the latest addition to his collection, eagerly towing Bucky from car to car.

They take apart and clean one of the engines, shoulders bumping together and hands brushing occasionally when they pass along tools, and Bucky is on cloud nine right up until-

“If you want to borrow one of the cars for a date or something,” Tony says around the screwdriver in his mouth, which is incredibly distracting and has been replaced by something completely different in Bucky’s mind, “just make sure to bring it back in one piece and please, no stains on the leather.”

Bucky splutters at that, causing Tony to glance over at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he grins and winks at Bucky. “Come on, talk to me. Who is she? What’s her name? Do I know her?”

“There is no- I’m not-“ Bucky stammers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

Which doesn’t happen, but Tony’s phone chirping and Pepper calling him away for a meeting he’s already twenty minutes late to works, too.

***

In hindsight, asking Thor how to woo Tony hadn’t been the best idea Bucky’d ever had.

He backs away quietly and sneaks out of the room when Thor spontaneously breaks out into a song about the virtues of his dearly beloved Jane.

***

“Adrenaline,” Natasha suggests, then slams the door in Bucky’s face to go back to whatever important business he has apparently interrupted at three on a Sunday afternoon.

Asking Tony if he’s up, no pun intended, for some sparring isn’t exactly new, but with the added awareness that Bucky has an ulterior motive and wants more out of this than usual, concentrating turns out to be a physical impossibility.

He’s tripping over his own feet, throwing punches so sloppy even his own mother would be embarrassed and, to make things perfect, bangs his head hard enough that his vision goes all blurry after being distracted by the movement of Tony’s arm muscles instead of paying attention to his fists.

“Shit,” Tony exclaims, running over and falling to his knees next to Bucky, carefully probing at what will undoubtedly grow into a bump by the end of the day. “I’m so sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Bucky manages and only slurs his words a little bit, not protesting in the slightest when Tony gently lifts his head to place it in his lap.

It’s not what Bucky’d had in mind, but he sure as hell isn’t going to complain about Tony smoothing his fingers through his hair and fussing over him until they’re called upstairs for team dinner.

***

“Just drop your pants and wiggle your junk at him,” is Clint’s advice, and it’s a sign of Bucky’s desperation that he actually considers doing it before shaking himself out of the resulting fantasy and chucking his spoon at a cackling Clint’s face.

The thought sticks with him, though, and while he doesn’t go all the way right away, the next time Bucky’s due for some arm maintenance, he shows up in Tony’s workshop already shirtless, only for Tony to hand him one of his hoodies with a smile and a casual, “It gets cold down here.”

On the plus side, Bucky has something with Tony’s smell to wear and bury his nose in now, but it hasn’t brought him any closer to his actual goal of getting Tony out of _his_ clothes.

***

“Have you considered, and tell me if this is too outrageous or anything,” Steve begins mock-seriously, “simply asking him out on a date by actually asking him out on a date instead of prancing around half naked or giving yourself concussions?”

Bucky narrows his eyes to glare at him because where’s Steve even coming from, using logic and common sense on him like that?

Honestly.

Still, Bucky knocks on Tony’s door later that evening wearing the clothes Tasha’d picked out for him, some of Thor’s cologne and several of Clint’s leather bracelets, hair pulled back into a messy bun Steve had assured him looked great, and the piece of paper with the address of Tony’s favourite Italian restaurant Bruce had slipped him sitting in his pocket.

“Hi,” he says dumbly when Tony pokes his head out into the hall, noticing the tense set of his jaw and the dark bags under his eyes but barrelling on nonetheless. “Do you wanna have dinner with me? I made reservations and I thought maybe we could catch a movie after and-“

“Did Rhodey send you?” Tony interrupts, an angry undertone to his voice that makes Bucky take a step back, his stomach sinking. “Pepper? Happy? Look, tell whomever it was that I don’t need their pity _or_ charity, thank you very much!”

Bucky’s getting pretty used to forcefully closing doors, these days.

Shoulders slumped, he shuffles back down to his and Steve’s apartment, throwing on his baggiest, most comfortable clothes before flopping down on the couch and turning on the TV.

_“-Stark Industries stocks have fallen significantly since the publication of previously unknown documents describing Mr Stark’s captivity under the militant terrorist group known as the Ten Rings,”_ the news anchor informs her audience and Bucky groans, mashing his face into one of the cushions.

Perfect timing there, Barnes, he thinks miserably.

Maybe it’s a sign, a sign that Bucky should just stop trying to make something happen that’s obviously not meant to happen.

He sends Steve a picture of his pouting face to make him bring back ice cream from the grocery store.

***

They’re in the elevator up to the common floors after a mission debrief when Tony turns to face Bucky, biting his bottom lip and sounding uncharacteristically shy as he asks, “I know this must be coming out of the blue for you, but I’ve been thinking about it for ages, so, would you be my date to the charity gala next week?”

His face crumples at Bucky’s incredulous, “Are you fucking kiddin’ me right now?” but before he can slip away, Bucky grabs his elbow and reels him in close, pressing their mouths together.

“Just so you know,” Tony manages to breathe out in between kisses, “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals here right now.”

“Join the club,” Bucky practically growls, but then adds a softer, quieter, “Yes,” and kisses Tony again, and doesn’t stop for quite a while.


	29. Crossdressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "imagine Tonys reaction to Bucky loving dresses. Bucky loved the dresses back in the 40s but never dared to wear to wear them now after learning more about gender roles he wears all the dresses while preaching about bending the roles to anyone willing to listening (surprising to some Thor rocks the dresses too and is preaches with Bucky)" [with fanart]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful fanart by the wonderful [auripigmentum](http://auripigmentum.tumblr.com/) can be found [here](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/118633790276/hot-pin-up-boy-bucky-for-this-wonderful). 
> 
> More pictures included in the text.

Bucky is staring at the package sitting on his bed with no small amount of trepidation, nervously chewing his thumbnail and drumming the fingers of his metal hand against his hip.

He knows what he’s about to do isn’t illegal or even something that would get him into trouble, not anymore and not here, and he’s aware that he isn’t alone with this inclination, that there are others like him out there, but he still hesitates.

Unlike being queer, which Bucky has been at peace with ever since his late teens, this continues to make him feel queasy and anxious, feels wrong and shameful somehow, despite how much the times and the idea of what is and is not appropriate for a man to do and like have changed.

Bucky waxes, for example, doesn’t have a single hair anywhere on his body below his neck, enjoys the smoothness of his skin after treating himself to a day at the spa, preferably with Tony at his side and a drink in his hand.

All of that, the hairlessness, the boyfriend, the appletinis and the pedicures, would most definitely have earned him more than a few raised eyebrows back in the day, yet Bucky couldn’t care less about the would-have-been judgement.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Bucky tells himself that he’s being stupid and reaches out, carefully, almost reverently pulling open the cardboard box and taking out the first item.

It had taken a while, even after recovering himself and his memories, until Bucky had felt brave enough to ask JARVIS, after swearing him to absolute secrecy, to help him find something fitting his tastes.

But holding the [dress ](http://cdn.acfrg.com/i/400_650_fit_ffffff__png/ACfrG/productpics_fullsize/2/236295a.jpg)out in front of him now, Bucky can’t help but smile. It’s black, like most of his clothing these days, has a zipper running from the collar right down to the crotch, and is decorated with several straps and buckles not unlike those on his uniform, which is the main reason Bucky had chosen this particular piece.

He quickly shrugs out of his robe and into the dress, excitedly biting his lip as he zips himself up and turns around to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror on his wardrobe.

Bucky’s throat goes dry when he sees himself because _yes_ , this is right, this is what he wanted, what he _needed_.

Turning back to the box, he grabs the [boots ](http://cdn.acfrg.com/i/400_650_fit_ffffff__png/ACfrG/productpics_fullsize/2/286813a-emp.jpg) and perches on the edge of the bed, pulling them up over his legs, and just admires them for a moment before jumping up again, twirling around once to get a feel for how everything sits and shifts against his body.

He’s too busy grinning down at himself and being giddy to hear the bedroom door opening, only noticing someone else is in the room with him when Tony calls out, “Hey, babe, what’cha doing?”

Bucky freezes, head snapping up to see Tony walking toward him, gaze flickering up and down Bucky’s body, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I-“ Bucky starts, then cuts himself off and ducks his head, mortified by the blush he can feel creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks.

This is not how he’d imagined Tony finding out. In fact, Bucky had been determined never to let his boyfriend know about any of this, too scared to see what Tony’s reaction would be.

“I thought you were at that conference thing until tomorrow?” he manages eventually, still staring down at his feet and refusing to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Got cancelled,” Tony says and then his hands appear in Bucky’s field of vision, making Bucky twitch before he realises all Tony’s doing is tightening the belt that’s still hanging loosely around Bucky’s waist.

“That’s better,” Tony hums once he’s finished, hands settling on Bucky’s hips and nose nudging against Bucky’s chin until Bucky lifts his head enough for Tony to press their lips together. “Hi,” he smiles against Bucky’s mouth, giving him another quick peck before pulling back enough to get a good look at him.

Bucky stays still and silent as Tony takes him in, barely daring to breathe, but then Tony whistles and waggles his brows at Bucky.

“So,” Bucky asks quietly, fingers curling into Tony’s suit jacket out of their own volition, as if to keep him there should he change his mind and decide to run, “this is okay?”

Tony’s face softens at that, one hand coming up to gently cup the side of Bucky’s neck.”Yeah, of course it is, darling.”

“It is?” Bucky frowns, somewhat sceptically. “You’re all right with a man, the man you’re dating, wearing- wearing women’s clothing?”

“Why not?” Tony shrugs and Bucky gapes a little because he’s being so unbelievably _casual_ about this. “You wear whatever you want, gorgeous, I don’t mind. Well, no socks with sandals, please, but other than that? Go for it. Besides, putting gender restrictions on clothing is kind of ridiculous, if you really think about it. Technically, pants are menswear but no one gives a shit anymore if women walk around in them. Whatever makes you feel comfortable is A-okay with me, dollface.”

Bucky remains speechless, blinking owlishly at the man in front of him.

“Wait, just one question,” Tony pipes up again suddenly. “Do you want me to change pronouns while you’re wearing this? Or permanently? What do I call you? Is it-“

“I’m still Bucky,” Bucky interrupts, confused for a moment before it clicks and he shakes his head. “No, this isn’t- I’m not- I’m me, same as always, Bucky, James, male, just in a dress.”

“A very fetching dress,” Tony leers and Bucky snorts, fondly rolling his eyes and licking his lips when Tony sneaks his hands up under the dress to squeeze Bucky’s butt. “And I’m certainly appreciating the easy access.”

Grinning, Bucky pushes Tony down on the bed and makes himself at home in his lap, voice low and husky as he whispers, “Good thing I’m going commando, huh?”

***

Despite Tony’s support, it takes Bucky a little while longer before he allows the rest of the team to see this part of him.

He’s in a figure-hugging [dress ](http://cdn.acfrg.com/i/400_650_fit_ffffff__png/ACfrG/productpics_fullsize/2/272243a-emp.jpg) Tony had picked out - “Holy shit, I can’t wait to peel you out of this!” - as he walks into the communal kitchen, Steve the first one to spot him.

“Hey, Buck, we’re having-“ he starts, stopping abruptly when he glances away from the stove and properly looks at Bucky.

He’s surprised, but recovers quickly, looking Bucky up and down before getting stuck on his [shoes](http://www.sinistersoles.com/v/vspfiles/photos/S-PLEASER-FEARLESS-715-SHOES-2T.jpg) and mouthing, “How?”

Bucky sags in relief, though he manages a smirk and to drawl, “Practice, Stevie.”

“Why are you wearing a dress?” Clint wants to know from his perch on the counter, not sounding unkind but definitely caught off guard.

“Because I like wearing them,” Bucky shrugs and shoots Tasha a grateful smile when all she has to say is, “Good for you.”

Clint eyes Bucky a few seconds longer, then lets out a mock-offended huff. “I wish my ass would look that perky and firm in, well, anything.”

“Hey!” Tony snaps, jogging in through the door at that moment, scowling at Clint. “That’s my ass. Stop staring at what’s mine.”

And Thor seems entirely unconcerned with the entire situation, just smiling toothily at Bucky when Bucky sits down at the table next to him, watching in amusement as Tony and Clint bicker away.

***

“-is very different back home on Asgard,” Tony hears Thor explain enthusiastically, coming to a stop in the doorway to the living area.

Bucky is parked on the back of the couch, sweatpants-clad thighs slung over Thor’s massive shoulders with Thor sitting between Bucky’s legs while Bucky is braiding his hair, and nodding along with whatever Thor’s saying.

Thor, who is wearing a bright yellow dress with what Tony thinks might be daisies printed on it, and gesturing at a harassed-looking Sam.

“I will clothe myself in whatever pleases me,” Thor booms loudly, “and not be discouraged by oppressive, outdated Midgardian ideals!”

“That’s nice,” Sam says tightly, eyes trained on a spot somewhere on Thor’s forehead. “But please, as a personal favour, close your legs, man.”

Tony bursts out laughing and only just manages to catch a giggling Bucky and keep him from falling over backwards off the couch.


	30. Children's Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine a scared, stoic teenage Tony arriving at a boy's group home after having been taken from his abusive home, and meeting Steve (the friendly orphan) and his very attractive if a little scary friend Bucky (there for discipline reasons? Idk)..."

The first time Tony sees Bucky is the morning he arrives at the group home, duffle bag clutched tightly against his chest, and trying not to scratch at the itchy dressing on his forehead as Sam shows him around.

They’re rounding the corner from the hallway into the dining room when Tony hears the angry shouting and the very distinctive sound of a fist repeatedly connecting with soft flesh that makes him freeze mid-step, and then quickly flatten himself against the closest wall, making himself as small as possible as he tries to disappear into the shadows.

Sam reaches out as if to touch him but thinks better of it when Tony flinches away from his hand, shooting him what Tony thinks might be supposed to be a reassuring smile instead before vanishing in the direction of the commotion.

Sam doesn’t yell, which is new, but there’s no mistaking the firmness and disapproval in his voice.

Someone murmurs back something, too low for Tony to hear, and then there’s a crash and a boy comes storming out of the room and right toward Tony, shouting a furious, “I ain’t apologising to that asshole!” over his shoulder.

The boy nearly runs straight into Tony, only spotting him and stopping at the last moment.

“What the hell are you lookin’ at?” he demands, and Tony lowers his eyes, staying as quiet and still as possible.

There’s blood on the other boy’s knuckles, the skin rubbed raw, his shirt is wrinkled and torn at the collar, the left sleeve hanging empty.

It doesn’t make him any less menacing or intimidating, though, as he asks, “Well?”

“N- no- nothing,” Tony stammers, and the boy watches him for another moment before huffing and walking off without another word.

Sam comes back and apologises, but Tony doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the tour, locking himself in the bathroom as soon as Sam leaves him to unpack, careful not to make too much noise and attract any attention while he’s crying.

***

Steve, one of Tony’s new roommates, immediately takes it upon himself to tell Tony about all the ins and outs of Shield House.

He’s twelve, a year younger than Tony, and tiny with huge blue eyes and dirty blond hair, a toothy smile and a bubbly laugh that’s infectious and makes some of the tension melt out of Tony’s shoulders.

He introduces Tony to the other people he’ll be bunking with; Bruce, who’s older and doesn’t talk much, Steve informs him, but likes science and books, which Tony approves of; Thor, who doesn’t really speak English but is super nice, and Clint, who likes hiding in high places and watching the birds outside in the garden.

There’s a sixth bed in the room, obviously occupied, going by the clothes and comic books strewn all over it, but Tony decides not to ask about it.

They’re called down for lunch shortly after Tony’s said hi to everyone, Steve insisting that Tony sit next to him at the table and telling him all about what’s good and what isn’t, loading Tony’s plate with food and generally being nice enough to make Tony a little suspicious.

But the afternoon flies by with Steve chattering on about everything and nothing, successfully distracting Tony from dwelling on thoughts of home, and the way his stomach twists whenever he remembers Jarvis’ apologetic face as the police had bundled Tony into a car.

Tony knows that Jarvis did what he did to protect him, and he’s glad that Howard won’t be able to get to him here, but he misses the familiarity of his own room and sitting at the kitchen counter, tinkering or working on his projects while Jarvis cooks or cleans.

When it’s bedtime, Sam comes up to the room and stops by every bed to make sure everyone has everything they need, bringing Bruce a glass of water and promising Clint that he can call his brother on the weekend, as usual.

“Bucky will be back, right?” Steve asks when Sam perches on the edge of his mattress and Sam nods, reassures him that Bucky would never leave Steve, ruffling Steve’s hair and earning himself an indignant squawk.

Tony hides his smile in his pillow.

He tells Sam he’s fine and then waits until the others are fast asleep before tiptoeing over to the bathroom, careful to close the door quietly behind himself.

The stitches on his forehead have been hurting Tony all day but Jarvis had shown him how to take care of and clean wounds ages ago, so Tony had opted not to tell Sam or any of the other adults about it. He doesn’t want to bother them any more than strictly necessary and make them think he’s weak or needy.

He’s cleaning up the few droplets of fresh blood when the small window over the tub suddenly starts creaking, the feet pushing through a moment later making Tony yelp and then clap a hand over his mouth, praying that no one’s heard him.

The boy from earlier drops into the room, muttering to himself and shaking leaves and a small twig out of his tousled hair, frowning a little when he sees Tony by the sink.

“You okay?” he asks gruffly, and Tony shrinks back against the wall behind him, unsure what to say or do as he watches the boy walk over.

He leans in close, squinting at the stitches, then points at the closed toilet and orders, “Sit.”

Tony does so without protest, tucking his hands into his armpits to keep them from shaking. The boy rummages through one of the cupboards for a moment, fishing out a first aid kit which he sets down on the floor next to Tony.

“I’m Bucky,” he says absently, brushing some hair away from Tony’s forehead and just following the movement when Tony automatically jerks away from the touch, cupping Tony’s cheek and waiting until Tony’s breathing has evened out before he continues with his inspection. “What’s your name?”

“Tony.”

Bucky just grunts his acknowledgement of that, bending down to get some new bandages and a tube of antibacterial cream.

They don’t talk while Bucky fixes Tony up with surprising speed and skill, given the missing arm, Tony startling again when Bucky presses a light kiss to the newly wrapped stitches once he’s done.

“Good as new,” he grins, carelessly stuffing all the utensils back into the bag and then kicking that into the corner of the room. “Night.”

“Good night,” Tony murmurs, still stunned.

He cleans up the first aid kit because he doesn’t want to get in trouble, sneaking back into the bedroom to find Bucky curled up on Steve’s bed, wrapped tightly around the smaller boy.

“-thought you weren’t coming back this time,” Steve is whispering when Tony walks by his bed, and Bucky makes a pained sound in the back of his throat, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

Steve giggles and shoves at him half-heartedly. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“Punk,” Bucky mumbles back, grin audible in his voice.

Tony settles under his own covers, blushing and shyly ducking his head when he sees Bucky smiling over at him.

***

When Bucky’s not off hiding somewhere after an argument, he’s practically glued to Steve’s side at all times. And with Steve mothering Tony, _Steve and Bucky_ soon turns into _Steve and Bucky and Tony_.

Steve’s incapable of backing down from a fight, has scrapes and bruises or a black eye more often than not, but never loses this innocent cheerfulness Tony doesn’t think he ever had, even when he’d been little.

Bucky, in turn, is always grumpy, like Steve’s polar opposite. He sneers at the other boys in the home and isn’t afraid to use his fist, although he never beats on someone weaker or anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

And underneath it all, under the temperament and anger, Bucky is one of the sweetest people Tony has ever met.

He carries some band aids and a spare inhaler for Steve on his person at all times, just as a precaution, and adds Tony’s heart medication to his inventory after Tony forgets to take it one morning and is jittery and exhausted all day.

The candy he buys with the money he makes at his part-time job filling the shelves at the corner shop down the street gets distributed between all the boys in Shield House, even the ones he doesn’t like, and he always gets Tony’s favourites even though Tony knows they’re expensive.

When Tony has nightmares and dreams of being back at the mansion, Bucky crawls into bed with him and cuddles him, strokes his fingers through Tony’s hair and whispers stupid nonsense in his ear just to make Tony laugh.

He shares his comic books with Tony and lets Tony play with his Game Boy whenever he wants, standing between Tony and the few boys who’ve decided to bully him because of his glasses and how much he likes learning, and every night before they go to their separate beds, Bucky kisses the top of Tony’s head and hugs him tight.

Tony knows what Howard would have to say about this if he were here, but Tony can’t help the way his eyes linger on Bucky’s stomach when he changes or how his gaze tends to drop to Bucky’s lips when he’s laughing, wanting to lean in to find out how his happiness tastes.

Tony’s good at hiding those things, though, pushing them away and somewhere deep down where he doesn’t have to think about them.

And it works great, right up until one night in late June when most of the boys decide to sneak out and go skinny dipping in the nearby lake.

He doesn’t even realise he’s staring at the muscles in Bucky’s back until Justin starts howling with laughter, pointing from Tony to Bucky with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Hey, Barnes,” he calls, voice mean and teasing, “did you notice the little nerd checking you out?”

Tony can feel the blush creeping up his neck but he doesn’t wait around for the fallout, grabs his towel and shoes and flees instead.

Bucky catches up with him outside the home, panting as he whirls Tony around to face him, his eyes wide and expression unreadable in the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I didn’t-“ is as far as Tony gets before Bucky’s mouth is on his, soft and wet and warm.

“I’m not,” Bucky grins and kisses him again and again until they have to break apart for air, Bucky’s arm around Tony’s waist and Tony’s hands fisted in Bucky’s shirt.

Tony swallows hard against the sudden lump in his throat, tracing a trembling finger along Bucky’s jaw. “This is a bad idea. I’m leaving for MIT after the summer, we-“

“We’ll make it work,” Bucky decides, his tone leaving no space for arguments.

Tony can’t help but smile a little at that. “It will be hard.”

“No,” Bucky disagrees, leaning in again, “it will be worth it.”

***

It is worth it.

It’s worth it when they both cry the day Tony leaves Shield House, and can only see each other during holidays for almost three years.

It’s worth it when Tony graduates with honours at just seventeen, Steve and Bucky standing on their seats next to an indulgently smiling Jarvis and cheering loudly, when Steve jump-hugs him and Bucky peppers kisses over his face and Jarvis tells him how proud he is.

It’s worth it when Tony gets his first job, when they sign they lease for their first shared apartment just two blocks down from Steve’s university, when Bucky proposes and Tony says yes and Steve says they’re both too young and crazy, when they fight because Bucky wants to take more shifts so Tony can go and finish his second degree.

It’s worth it when Tony starts his own company, when it takes off and when money stops being an issue, when Bucky just rolls his eyes at the extravagance of it and Steve tells him plainly how ugly he thinks Tony’s tower is.

No matter what happens, good or bad, it’s definitely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **BIG NEWS!**
> 
>  
> 
> [Imagine Tony and Bucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/) is looking for new authors and artists. Check out this [post](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/134776219566/a-shoutout-to-all-winteriron-authors-and-artists) for information/the link to the application form.
> 
> Come and join us!


	31. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony & Bucky slowly developing a relationship; Bucky's still raw from the remnants of the Soldier, Tony's still dealing with the portal & nearly (actually) dying. After months of not-really-we're-just-both-having-dinner-at-this-restaurant-together dates, they head back to Tony's rooms & things get heated. They start stripping, heading for bed, &Tony doesn't want to take his shirt off. Bucky says it's fine he's seen the reactor but that's not it. Tony was whipped in Afghanistan &has scars. He’s massively self-conscious and disgusted by them and because he refused to tell anyone about what happened when he was a prisoner, he can’t have surgery to remove or reduce them."

They’ve been taking it slow for months, not officially dating but both of them aware of and content with the fact that this -- the spending afternoons tinkering together and going out to eat and all the not strictly necessary touches and the occasional chaste pecks -- is their way of reassuring each other that being together is what they want, as soon as they’re ready.

Bucky’s glad for it, for the almost glacial pace at which their relationship is moving forward, allowing him the space and time he requires to, first and foremost, find himself again. To rediscover his wants and needs.

And he knows Tony shares his sentiments on this, that he’s equally relieved that he can have the comfort of being close to another person without making any commitments yet.

Or that’s how it had been until today, at least, until they step into the elevator at the tower after dinner and lazily strolling through the streets, and Tony glances up at Bucky with a heat in his eyes Bucky is positive is mirrored in his own gaze.

There is a tense moment of them both just looking, the crackle of lust and desire between them almost tangible, and then they’re crashing together in a kiss that’s all teeth and no finesse.

Tony groans into Bucky’s mouth, hands clutching at his shoulders, and Bucky nips at his lower lip, fingers digging into Tony’s hips and angling him closer, craving the contact.

They only pull back long enough to get rid of their respective jackets before swaying towards each other again, Tony leaning heavily against Bucky’s chest while his mouth works on Bucky’s neck, Bucky’s arm around his shoulders and the metal fingers teasing under the waistband of his jeans.

Tony grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him toward his bedroom before the elevator doors are even fully opened, walking backwards on his tiptoes so he can continue peppering kisses over Bucky’s cheeks and nose, the only thing keeping him from stumbling being the firm hold Bucky has on his waist.

The bed creaks under the combined weight of them falling onto it, Bucky using the momentum to roll on top of Tony, Tony’s legs spreading readily for him to settle between.

They’re reluctant to part again but do so eventually when it becomes obvious that their uncoordinated fumbling won’t be enough to shuck the rest of their clothes, Bucky grumbling half-heartedly as he stands and quickly toes off his shoes and tosses away his shirt, slides his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion.

Tony’s right there with him, pulling off the last of his socks by the time Bucky pounces again, then moans when their erections rub together without the hindering barrier of denim.

“Here,” Bucky breathes and grabs the hem of Tony’s undershirt, the only thing he’s till wearing, starting to pull, “let me help.”

“No!” Tony shouts, the word startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet room, reaching for Bucky’s wrists and stilling his hands. “Not this.”

“I’ve seen it before, in the files,” Bucky says, lowering himself enough so he can nuzzle his face into Tony’s neck. “What the reactor left behind.”

Tony hums at the feeling of Bucky’s lips on his pulse, threads his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “It’s not that,” he murmurs, swallowing hard. “There’s other things, other stuff. I don’t- I can’t-“

“Okay,” Bucky says, and moves up to kiss him once more.

Bucky could point out that Tony has been working on his prosthetic for almost a year now, that he’s seen the scars around the joint and the constant inflammation dozens of times. That Bucky’s own body is littered with ugly marks and reminders of unimaginable horrors. That Bucky is the last person to judge.

But this isn’t rational, Bucky knows, this isn’t about looks or vanity. 

It’s a matter of dealing with the cause of the things Tony doesn’t want him to see, of coming to terms with what has happened to him, the helplessness and the despair and, knowing Tony, the guilt.

And Bucky can be patient, he can wait.

He can kiss Tony and make love to him, he can answer Tony’s unspoken question in form of a hot mouth brushed over the burn on Tony's inner thigh, or gently nudge Tony away from the slight discoloration in the crook of his elbow and the memories talking about it would bring with it.

And when he’s the first person Tony willingly tells about the whole extent of his torture, when Tony is ready to show him the raised, knobbly lines on his back, Bucky can hold him through the trembling and the tears.

Take away at least some of the pain.


	32. Protective Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine Tony being protective. Imagine Bucky gets hurt, and Tony just straight up beats down whoever hurt him. Imagine Tony turning that brain on someone who was mean to Bucky. Imagine how amused Bucky would be."

“Hey, isn’t that the guy who-“ Clint starts, excitedly pointing at the TV before cutting off abruptly when Natasha elbows him in the ribs, hard. “Ow!”

Bucky glances up from his book to look at the screen, grimacing a little when an uncomfortably familiar face comes into view.

Public appearances aren’t exactly on Bucky’s agenda these days. He values his privacy now that he’s got it back and really, everything he could possibly need and all the people he cares about are right here in the tower, so Bucky doesn’t usually have a lot of reason to venture outside.

He’d done it, though, a couple of days ago, had firmly told himself that becoming a total hermit couldn’t be the solution either, and had gone to buy a hot dog from the cart around the corner, even made some small talk with the vender.

It had gone surprisingly well right until a microphone had been shoved into his face, two cameras pointing straight at him and a sour-looking reporter demanding to know how it was possible for a traitor like the Winter Soldier to be out and about instead of rotting away in a cell.

Bucky’d frozen, panic rising up his throat and making his heart pick up speed, and simply stood there, speechless and completely overwhelmed until a furious Steve had swooped in and nearly taken the guy’s head off.

“Turn up the volume,” Clint demands, earning himself one of those scary Natasha glares but not letting that deter him, grabbing for the remote instead and doing exactly that.

_“-highly incriminating evidence proving years of tax evasion and money laundering,”_ the anchor is saying, a picture of reporter guy with his hands cuffed showing behind her. _“According to sources, the suspect was pleading with police to take him into protective custody when he handed himself in earlier this morning.”_

“Huh,” Bucky says, a pleased little grin tugging at his lips.

Clint is frowning at the TV. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“Yes,” Natasha hums, eyes following Tony, who has chosen that moment to walk into the room and flop down next to--and half on top of--Bucky on the couch, leaning in close to nuzzle his cheek. “A coincidence.”

***

“There should be a Bucky Barnes action figure, too,” Tony muses, effectively drawing the attention of all the other Avengers and associates, the PR team, and the representative from the company who’s designing said action figures.

Tony looks up, unapologetic, and just shrugs. “All the other Howling Commandos are getting one, so.”

“Mr Stark,” the representative says uncertainly, eyes darting from Tony to where Bucky’s sitting at the back of the room with his tablet, and back again. “Our surveys have shown that-“

Tony pushes back his chair and starts to rise, the smile he’s directing at the representative so sharp that Bucky actually feels a little bad for her. “I’m afraid it appears we have different visions for this project. If you would excuse me, my time is valuable.”

“I-“ the representative stutters, nervously shuffling her papers. “I’m- I’m not saying you’re not right, Mr Stark, but if the demand-“

“Glad you’re mentioning that,” Tony chirps, all friendliness and charm again as he pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment to project the picture of a website onto the far wall; _Protect Bucky Barnes Initiative_.

Bucky ducks his head to hide his smile, half proud and half embarrassed.

“There are currently twelve different threads here on this site alone asking why there isn’t more Bucky Barnes merchandise available,” Tony begins, clicking a link and then zooming in on something. “I’ve taken the liberty of conducting my own research and have found that-“

Bucky glances over at Steve, giving a _what can you do?_ shrug in answer to Steve’s fondly exasperated eye-roll.

***

“-is a scientific fact!”

Bucky comes to a halt in the doorway to the living area, not sure yet if he wants to be a part of whatever Tony’s yelling about.

“Look, man,” Sam sighs, and not for the first time, if his tone is anything to go by. “I’m not saying it’s a bad butt. All I did was mention that I like my own boyfriend’s butt, all right?”

Tony huffs, clearly offended. “Steve’s butt isn’t even on the same level as James’ butt!”

“Tony, I- oh my God, are those charts? Did you seriously make charts to compare our boyfriends’ butts?”

Bucky backs away quietly and goes to grab himself a beer.

He’ll probably need it.

***

“I sincerely regret threatening-“ Tony reads, then wrinkles his nose and drops his cue cards.

Backstage, standing next to Bucky, Pepper groans and lets her face fall into her hands.

“Okay, look, I wasn’t threatening anyone. All I did was make a, uh, strong suggestion that Whatshisname would be,” he pauses, thinking, “would be happier, yeah, let’s go with that. That he would be happier if he got some things off his chest. Being the nice person I am, I also offered him a ride to the precinct.”

“So,” one of the reporters begins, standing, “the phrase _‘If you come near him again I’ll show you firsthand what a man with a couple of billions and a weaponized metal suit is capable of!’_ doesn’t ring any bells?”

“I can’t say that it does, no,” Tony says, completely straight-faced.

Bucky claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the inappropriate bubble of laughter.

***

The HYDRA Agent smirks, unconcerned, as a bloodied, snarling Tony stalks up to where he’s being detained by Hawkeye and Falcon. “Ah, Mr Stark, how nice of you to jo-“

Which is as far as he gets before Tony’s fist connects with his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.

Sam and Clint wisely take a step back each.

“Don’t,” Tony growls and kicks him in the side, “ever,” kick, “touch,” kick, “him,” kick, “again!”

The agent moans in pain, only half-conscious, and doesn’t react when Tony spits at him.

When he takes aim again, Bucky shoves the oxygen mask away from his nose and mouth, rasping a hoarse, “Tony, enough.”

Tony stops immediately, whole posture softening as he turns, then walks over to the SHIELD van and wraps his arms around Bucky, drawing him in with shaking hands, and burying his damp face in Bucky’s hair.

“You’re okay,” Tony breathes, and Bucky smiles, hugs him back.

“Yeah, I’m okay. You make sure of that.”


	33. Alpha/Omega Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to the Alpha/Omega prompt in chapter 23.  
> Tony is insecure, panics a little, and Bucky is a good boyfriend (who sees right through Tony's bullshit).

“Mr Stark, can you talk about the rumours that you and your partner are thinking about expanding your family?” yells one of the gathered media people from the back of the room, effectively derailing Tony, and making him splutter through the rest of his sentence.

Now, reporters asking inappropriately intimate question during official Avengers press conferences isn’t something that surprises Tony anymore, but his relationship with James is new and delicate enough that the topic of kids hasn’t really come up yet.

And _that_ is a discussion Tony is dreading, and not looking forward to at all.

It’s not that Tony’s opposed to kids in general—the idea of a tiny version of James running around the tower makes his heart swell, and stomach flutter in a definitely pleasant way—but in this, Tony knows, he can’t be selfish.

Because while their home is the safest building in the state—if not the country, take that, Secret —with Tony’s personal detail and all the Avengers and other various superheroes in residence, to maintain that level of security at all times would mean a lot of sacrifices for the child. Tony should know, having grown up with Howard’s paranoia that his disappointment of a son would allow himself to be kidnapped, and be dumb enough spill all of the company’s secrets.

This, Tony is sure, him and James could work around somehow, celebrities and politicians and all sorts of people who are in the public eye decide to have children, after all, but that would be disregarding all the issues Tony himself brings into the equation.

He’d be a shitty father, first and foremost, Tony’s convinced of that. Not in the sense Howard and Maria were, Tony would never lay a hand on his offspring, but still. When it comes down to it, he’s self-centred and impatient with a scathing sense of humour which, even Tony knows that much, aren’t exactly qualities one looks for in a parent.

He drinks, less than before James came into his life but still more than is probably advisable, curses, is prone to neglecting his own needs, and tends to forget everything around him whenever he’s absorbed in one of his projects.

No, no kid should suffer the misfortune of being raised by Tony Stark, no matter what Tony Stark’s biological clock has to say about that.

And even if those very valid reasons which are not excuses at all didn’t exist, that would still leave the physical aspect and, _oh boy_ , is Tony’s body not in the condition to make, let alone carry a child. He’s rapidly approaching the wrong side of forty, which already puts him and any potential baby in the at-risk group. Adding his weak heart, semi-alcoholism, and damaged lungs to that doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture.

It is entirely possible that even if they tried, Tony and James wouldn’t be able to conceive. And Tony was really hoping to, somehow, conveniently tiptoe around that topic for until, well, preferably forever. Because James is young and gorgeous and Alpha, and one day he’ll realise that it’s fairly likely that he’ll have to choose between his partner and having kids. And the odds are _not_ in Tony’s favour here.

“Mr Stark?” another reporter prods, snapping Tony back out of his musings.

Great, everyone’s staring, Steve is sporting his concerned look, and James, when Tony chances a quick glance at him where he’s standing backstage, has his brows drawn together and is wearing an unreadable expression.

Wonderful. That’s just perfect.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to recent Avengers activity,” Tony manages eventually, after swallowing a couple of times to try and clear away the lump in his throat, a definite hysterical edge to his voice. “Dismissed, we’re done here.”

He gets up with jerky movements, and uses the stage exit on the other side of where James is waiting but James, damn him and his enhanced super soldier body and the way he knows Tony, catches him with an arm around the waist before he can leave the actual building, tugging Tony into the first empty room he finds, and firmly locking the door behind them.

“Quickie?” Tony asks, hoping against hope, but James manoeuvres him back until his legs hit the edge of a table, and he has no choice but to sit down, James crowded close against him.

“The way I see it,” James starts, and threads a gentle hand into Tony’s hair, sliding it back and down until he’s cupping the back of Tony’s head, forcing Tony to meet his eyes, “there are two possibilities here. One, you’re knocked up and afraid to tell me for some undoubtedly stupid reason you’ve spent the last I don’t know how long obsessin’ about.”

He arches a questioning eyebrow, and Tony shakes his head.

“All right, then, option two it is. You’re freakin’ out ‘cause you somehow got it into your stupid, ridiculous head that we won’t find a solution to this that suits us both whenever we decide that it’s time to talk about it. Yes or yes?”

“You should consider a career change,” Tony sighs, smiling a little as he flicks his fingers against James’ grinning mouth. “Mediums are all the rage right now, or so I hear.”

“Nah,” James rumbles, leaning in to nuzzle Tony’s cheek, “you’re just easy to read, doll, is all.”

Tony squawks, offended. “Excuse you, do you have any idea—“

“Do you want kids, Tony?” James interrupts, serious now, pulling back with a quick peck to Tony’s lips. “With me? At all?”

“Look,” Tony hedges, “that’s not—“

“Answer the question, Tony.”

“Yes, all right?” Tony snaps, then immediately deflates, gratefully leaning against James when James draws him in again. He eventually dares to ask, “What about you? Do you— with me?”

James hums, pressing his smile into Tony’s hair. “Sure, yeah. Not right this moment, but somewhere down the line, in a year or two, maybe, yeah. I’d like that. With you, so don’t you go worryin’ about that.”

“Get out of my head,” Tony complains mildly, winding his arms around James’ midsection. “What if I can’t do that for you, though? What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll do our best to make it work,” James shrugs, wholly unconcerned. “Adoption, surrogacy, whatever we want. I didn’t survive HYDRA to let something as simple as biology stop me. ‘Sides, you’re loaded. Rich white one-percenters always get what they want, don’t you know anything about the modern world?”

Tony can’t help but laugh at that. “Now who’s being ridiculous, huh?”

“Darlin’, we’re together in this, no matter what. You’re not alone. We’ll try our best, and if it turns out that that’s not enough, then we’ll deal with that, too. Together. It’s you and me, sweetheart, for good. Although,” he adds thoughtfully, “if we end up not having babies, I want a dog. No, you know what? Scratch that, I want a dog, period.”

“It’s not sleeping in our bed,” Tony warns.

“We’ll see about that,” James smirks, and then kisses Tony to shut up his protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like WinterIron? You want a distraction from all the painful Civil War feels? Come and join the [WinterIron Spring Fling](http://winterironspringfling.tumblr.com/) gift exchange. You can even sign up [right here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2016_WinterIron_Spring_Fling/profile) on AO3, no tumblr account required. Sign-ups are open until April 10th.


	34. Dom/sub (B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "A D/s verse, where Dom!Bucky is scared of hurting sub!Tony, and refuses to get too close, until Tony provokes him into a scene, and he realizes maybe he can do this after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt verged dangerously close to the dub/non-con territory, so I changed it a bit. Consent is a requirement, people, don’t joke about it! Not connected to the prompt in chapter 25.

Contrary to popular belief, and despite his entirely warranted playboy reputation, Tony is excellent at reading his potential partners, and judging if his advances are appreciated or not. Tony dislikes rejection as much as the next person, but he knows when to back off. Consent is not only sexy, it’s a requirement, and not an issue Tony takes lightly. As a sub, he’s been fighting for his right to say _no_ for as long as he can remember, and he’s not going to take it away from anyone else, no matter their gender or orientation.

James, though, isn’t making it easy. He is an almost scarily skilled sender of mixed signals, and every time Tony feels like he’s finally got him figured out, he does something so completely unexpected and confusing that Tony has to start all over again with his assessment of just what the hell James’ deal is.

At first, Tony thinks maybe he’s miscommunicating his intentions or sending out the wrong kinds of vibes himself. It has been a while since his last serious attempt at drawing a Dom’s interest for more than a roll in the hay, after all.

And that’s not what he wants with James. Well, it’s not _all_ he wants with James, although he wouldn’t say no to getting naked and sweaty together because, _hello_ , Tony has a pair of perfectly functioning eyes, and a working dick. But with James, Tony wants so much more; he wants friendship, and dating, and romance, and love, and family. All of it. With James.

So Tony redoubles his efforts because yes, admittedly, asking a guy out to lunch at a burger joint, or to tinker with Tony’s cars for an afternoon could probably be interpreted by said guy as a strictly platonic bromance sort of thing. Watching a romantic movie together seems like an excellent idea to remedy that misunderstanding, and Tony is mentally patting himself on the back later that evening when he stealthily moves closer and closer on the couch until he’s snuggled right up against James’ side, and James, without hesitation, curls an arm around his shoulders, and tips his head to rest against Tony’s.

But then the end credits start rolling, and James blinks, nearly shoves Tony off himself, and hurries into the elevator with a rushed, and slightly squeaky, “Thanks, this was great, see you!”

The next day, James acts like everything’s a-okay between them, which, on one hand, Tony’s incredibly grateful for. Then again, some awkwardness would have at least confirmed that something a little weird had gone down the previous night, but James smiles at Tony when Tony stumbles into the kitchen, and quickly moves to hand him a cup of coffee like he does every morning.

Tony squints at him, a little suspicious, but eventually takes the proffered cup with a murmured thanks, and flops down at the table next to Steve so he can steal the blueberries out of his pancakes. Steve, being the big softie he is, scowls half-heartedly at Tony but turns his plate to give him easier access. “So, Buck,” he says, all innocent in a way Tony knows means he’s anything but, “have you decided who to take to the charity gala tonight?”

James slams the pan he’s using down on the stove with enough force to make Tony wince, eggs spilling everywhere, and whirls around to pin Steve with a warning glare that goes completely ignored by the other man.

Tony watches, fascinated, as Steve quirks one eyebrow, just lightly, causing James to shake his head, and Steve, in return, to fold his arms across his chest which James answers with a huff and a pout. Going by Steve’s triumphant smirk, he’s won their silent argument. “You should ask Tony,” he suggests, winking knowingly at a spluttering Tony when James takes a moment to close his eyes, and curse in Russian. “He doesn’t have a date either.”

James grumbles something that sounds a lot like _meddling bastard_ , but he does turn to face Tony, and asks, shyly biting his bottom lip, “Would you like to be my date? For the gala thing?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tony blurts much too quickly, chin held high, and refuses to blush when Steve starts laughing at his obvious enthusiasm.

It’s entirely worth it, though, when James slides into the limousine next to him that evening, and reaches for Tony’s hand, linking their fingers and squeezing gently.

He doesn’t let go all night, but Tony isn’t about to complain. Having James right by his side as silent support while he schmoozes is no hardship. Besides, Tony knows James still struggles with large crowds of people, and he doesn’t mind playing buffer when it comes with James eventually wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist when Tony’s gesticulating requires both of his hands.

And then there’s the dancing. Tony doesn’t ask because he figures it would put them on display too much for James’ tastes, but James has other plans, apparently. He tugs Tony to the middle of the dance floor, the two of them swaying slowly to the music, Tony’s chin resting on James’ shoulder, and James’ nose buried in Tony’s hair.

They leave as early as is politely possible, falling into each other the instant the car door is shut behind them. James’ kisses stay chaste and sweet but no less intense for it, one hand cradling Tony’s jaw, and the other pressed to the small of Tony’s back, holding him close. By the time they arrive back at the tower, Tony’s dizzy from the feeling of James’ lips against his, taking James’ wrist when the elevator stops on the penthouse floor, and eagerly pulling him along.

James balks when they reach Tony’s bedroom door, shaking his head as he carefully eases his arm out of Tony’s grasp, and backs away. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Too fast?” Tony asks, trying not to let the hurt show when he goes to take James’ hand again, and James flinches away. “We can go slow, no problem, it’s fine, we don’t have to—“

“No, Tony, I can’t,” James interrupts, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I want to, believe me, I want to so much, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tony frowns, more worried than anything now in the face of James’ distress. It’s pure instinct to tilt his head to the side, a submissive gesture to appear more approachable, make the other man feel safe.

Tony gasps, surprise mixed with a sudden jolt of desire, as his back hits the nearest wall, James plastered against his front, Tony’s hands pinned against the wall on either side of his head, and James growling at him, low and possessive, his pupils blown wide.

Before Tony has quite caught up with what is happening, James is already releasing him, and bringing some distance between them, his expression haunted. “Don’t you see?” he croaks, his voice wrecked, and thick with emotion. “I’ll hurt you and I can’t do that, I can’t, Tony, I won’t. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t, but they made me hurt people, and—“

“Hey, no, c’mere,” Tony soothes and opens his arms, relieved when James practically collapses against him, face hidden in the crook of Tony’s neck as he trembles and cries, hands clutching at Tony’s jacket. “It’s okay, I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me, it’s all right, honey, it’s all right.”

“I might, though,” James sniffles miserably, but Tony immediately shakes his head, and tightens his hold around him.

“I read the files, remember?” he asks softly, brushing his lips over James’ temple. “We removed the implants, and you fought off what they did to you, you escaped. They have no more control over you, none. And you’re doing great now, baby, so great.”

James swallows hard, staying quiet for a long moment while he composes himself, slows his erratic breathing. “I’m scared,” he admits weakly, “of forgettin’ myself when I’m around you. Of allowing that other side of me take over, and have it do somethin’ unforgivable to you.”

Hooking a finger under James’ chin, Tony urges him to look up, and meet his eyes. “This isn’t about you being a Dom, James, this is about _you_ ,” he says seriously. “You and me. I don’t give a shit about your orientation, it doesn’t matter to me. I want _you_ , whatever _you_ are willing to give me, whenever _you_ are ready.”

“What if,” James begins hesitantly, “what if I’m never ready? What if I’ll never be able to give that part of me to you?”

“Then there are still about a million other things I’d love to do to you, gorgeous, believe me,” Tony leers, trying to lighten the mood, and leans forward slowly enough to give James enough time to pull back should he want to.

But James meets him halfway, smiling into the kiss, and whispering, “Okay.”

* * * * *

It would be okay—Tony had been genuine when telling James that he wouldn’t push—if it weren’t for the fact that James is obviously suffering by suppressing his natural instincts and urges.

For several weeks after the gala, Tony is on cloud nine, happy and content to enjoy their honeymoon phase, and watch people grumble and complain about how sickeningly adorable they are. They share Tony’s bed every night, James wrapped around him all protective and octopus-like, they kiss, and hold hands, and cuddle like Tony’s never been cuddled before, and while they’re moving at a pace completely foreign to Tony, it’s wonderful.

It’s almost perfect.

Almost.

Tony understands James’ fear, the man has every right to be terrified after having been tortured and brainwashed for decades, after having had his mind invaded, and the strength stemming from his dominant side twisted into nothing but pure aggression and violence as a tool for HYDRA to use at their leisure. But instead of finding a healthy outlet for them now, James is ignoring his needs, and hurting himself in the process, rejecting Tony’s offers to take that next step, to make things between them not necessarily sexual, but to maybe start involving scenes.

James won’t hear it, though, and Tony isn’t secure enough in their new and still fragile relationship to do more than ask every now and again, braced for the inevitable argument.

But Tony knows something has to change, sooner rather than later. If it were just James being disinterested in exploring their matching orientations, Tony would let it rest as promised. But James is harming himself; he has trouble sleeping, and his appetite is practically nonexistent, he’s always tense these days, snapping and baring his teeth at anyone venturing too close to Tony, his body pleading for release while his brain continues to shy away from anything even vaguely connected to his dominant side.

Tony sees his chance one afternoon when James, exhausted from over a week with barely any rest, passes out on the couch after lunch. He picks his tablet up from the coffee table, careful not to jostle James’ head where it is pillowed in his lap, and starts researching. Most of what he finds, Tony had already known, or suspected, or been doing all along; being patient and supportive, reassuring his partner that sex and scenes do not define a relationship, bringing the subject up again even if he’s been shot down before, blah blah blah, not helpful in the least.

He’s about to give up, maybe reconsider the idea of contacting a professional, a therapist or psychiatrist or some other doctor who actually knows what they’re doing, when he stumbles upon a comment with a link to a forum which has, according to the poster, drastically changed her life, and that of her Dom.

“Can’t hurt to look,” Tony sighs as he clicks the link, immediately changing his mind about that once the website’s fully loaded, spitting out a disgusted, “What the fuck?”

James stirs a little at the outburst, brows drawing together into an unhappy frown, but settles again when Tony threads a hand into his hair, absently scratching behind his ear as he reads.

The page is filled with dozens of stories from subs who have, and Tony can hardly believe what he’s seeing, tricked or downright forced their reluctant Doms and Dommes into a permanent bond by lying about their cycles, using scent enhancers on themselves or, on the rare occasion, drugging their partner to lower inhibitions, and make them bite them despite their worries.

Everything seems to be allowed, at least according to these people, as long as they’re bonded at the end of it.

Incredibly done with the internet for the day, Tony shuts off the tablet, and drops it on the carpet, wriggling around on the couch, and rearranging both himself and James until they’re tangled together, nosing along James’ ear, and breathing in deeply in an attempt to calm himself down.

“Tickles,” James grumbles, but cranes his neck so he can brush a sloppy kiss over Tony’s chin before flopping back down again, sleepily nuzzling Tony’s collarbone.

“Sorry, doll,” Tony chuckles, kissing the top of James’ head, and closing his eyes, too.

He’ll choose James with all his eccentricities and problems just the way he is now, without a bond, over the broken man Tony’s convinced he’d become if Tony did one of the despicably stupid things the subs in that forum are suggesting.

The rest of the day passes without incident. James spends some time working out with Steve, and Tony uses the opportunity to finish up a project down in his workshop, exhausted and greasy but happy when he falls into bed, and James’ waiting arms.

His good mood dissolves the moment he wakes with a gasp, sweat-soaked and overheated, in the middle of the night, however.

Tony instantly knows what’s going on, can tell by the telltale churning in his gut, and the way his body responds to James’ closeness, itching to touch and be touched, the quickly growing need to submit and hand control over to James. He isn’t due for another ten days, but the constant proximity to, and contact with James must have messed up his cycle, sped it up, his body pushing for a bond.

“Shit,” Tony groans, disentangling himself from James even though it physically pains him to lose the touch, rolling onto his back, panting as he tries to find the will to get up, and leave.

Suffering through the drops on his own is no fun, but Tony’s been doing it for most of his adult life, uneasy about showing this much vulnerability in front of anyone else. Ty and Pepper had been the only exceptions, and he’s still regretting sharing any of this with the former.

Before he has managed to drag himself out of bed, however, James stirs, and blinks open his eyes, automatically reaching for Tony, his nostrils flaring.

“No!” Tony squeaks, and jumps up, stumbling when his already wobbly legs won’t support him, and landing flat on his back on the floor, groaning weakly.

“Tony?” James ventures cautiously, his head appearing over the edge of the bed. His nose is scrunched up as he sniffs the air, then his eyes grow wide with realisation. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear!” Tony pleads, doing the exact opposite of what he knows he should be doing, and scooting closer to James’ outstretched hand, moaning softly when James gently strokes his cheek. “I had everything planned out, I was going to leave, spend some time in Malibu, but it came early, it surprised me, I didn’t mean to, I’m not like them, James, honey, I’m sorry, I—“

“Tony,” James interrupts the babbling, not an order but a strong suggestion, and Tony falls silent immediately. “I know, I know, it’s all right.”

James moves his hand to Tony’s forehead, hissing a little. “You’re burning up,” he observes, getting up, and holding his hands out for Tony, pulling him to his feet, too. “I’m going to get a few supplies, and I want you undressed when I come back. Leave your briefs on, on the bed, on your back. Can you do that for me?”

Tony nods dazedly, swaying for a moment after James lets go of him, but then snaps to it, and starts shucking his shirt and sleep pants, crawling back onto the bed, and arranging himself like he’s been told to. It doesn’t take long for James to return, carrying a bowl and towel, a bottle of Tony’s favourite fruit juice clamped under one arm.

“Good,” he says approvingly when he sees Tony, handing over the juice, and allowing Tony to sit up so he can drink before taking the bottle again, and pushing Tony back down, on the towel, straddling his legs.

Tony makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, hands twitching at his sides, because this is new, they haven’t gone further than making out, and grinding against each other, they—

“Hush, darlin’, it’s all right,” James murmurs soothingly, reaching into the bowl on the nightstand, and fishing out a wet washcloth, wringing it out before flattening the fabric over Tony’s forehead, making him moan again. Smiling, obviously satisfied with himself, James gets a second cloth, and starts tracing it along Tony’s arms, over his pecs, and down his stomach, the water blissfully cool against Tony’s overheated skin. When James is done—Tony as pliant and boneless as he ever gets underneath him—James sets everything aside, and grabs the hem of his own shirt, pulling it off over his head.

“I know you’re always havin’ a hard time staying still,” he says, amused, and Tony looks up at him, feeling a tendril of shame working through the haze of his drop. James must sense it, because he instantly lowers himself down so they’re pressed together, the sensation of skin against skin eliciting a contented sigh from Tony. “But you’re being so good for me right now, sweetheart, so good.”

Tony whimpers at the praise, melting into the kiss when James brings their mouths together, grunting appreciatively when James puts his full weight on him, effectively pinning him. Immobilised like this, with James warm and heavy above him, James’ scent surrounding him, and James’ arms wrapped tightly around him, it’s easy for Tony to float, to stop thinking for once, and simply enjoy his drop, eventually falling back asleep to James nibbling teasingly at his neck, right where the bond bite would go.

* * * * *

When Tony wakes for the second time, the mid-morning sun is shining through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the bedroom in warm, golden light.

Tony yawns, and turns his head to the side, away from the sunshine, met with James’ softly smiling face.

“Mornin’,” James whispers, kissing the corner of Tony’s mouth, the arm curled over Tony’s hips tugging him closer. “How are you feelin’?”

“Better, thanks to you,” Tony says, relieved to see James brighten up even more at that. “How about you?”

“I forgot it could be like this,” James admits through a sheepish huff, rubbing their noses together. “About takin’ care of someone, not just power, and fuckin’. I liked it.”

Tony can’t help himself, bites his lip to keep the dopey expression off his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” James agrees, kissing Tony again, slow and unhurried.


	35. Jealous Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "imagine Bucky feeling jealous over Tony and Bruce's relationship. They hang out ALL the time, the Hulk is constantly saving Tony in battle and Bruce gets Tony hugs every day!"

Bucky has been acting extremely weird and shifty for days now, and Tony has had just about enough of it.

It’s not that Tony isn’t used to screwing up and having people be angry at, or disappointed with him, but this time around he honestly can’t tell—even after hours upon hours of agonising over it—what it is that he’s done wrong. Besides, Bucky doesn’t appear to be mad on the rare occasions Tony sees him around the tower, and he doesn’t immediately flee the room the moment Tony steps inside. No, he seems sad and hurt.

And _that_ is so much worse.

Yelling or being lectured, Tony can deal with that, no problem, but this sudden silence coming from Bucky, this lack of contact, and the sudden stop of all the activities they usually do together? Not so much fun.

It can’t go on like this, Tony decides one morning during the second Bucky-less week, he has to get to the bottom of whatever problem there is, and apologise, or beg, or grovel until Bucky talks to him again. And he will, Tony definitely isn’t above any of it at this point.

First, he has to hunt Bucky down, though, which turns out to be more difficult than it has any right to be, especially considering that Tony has the building, and the AI controlling every even slightly mechanical thing in said building on his side. But Bucky is clever, one of the many things Tony lo— _likes_ about him, and he’s got some of the same super secret Russian spy training Natasha does, which kind of complicates the matter at hand.

It’s only after Tony has JARVIS cut off all access to the vents, momentarily sealing Clint inside his nest above the rec area, and lock down the elevators and all the doors that the odds are finally somewhat even. And it still takes a shouted, “Magnetise the arm, Jay!” from Tony when he sees Bucky dart by out of the corner of his eye—which is _not_ cheating—to finally pin him down.

Tony is already spouting apologies left and right when he approaches the scowling man stuck to a support beam inside the wall. It’s not like he enjoys using his crush— _friend’s_ built-in Iron Man ride-along gadget against him, but Tony is kind of desperate, and enough is enough.

“This ain’t funny,” Bucky growls at him.

Tony nods guiltily. “It’s not supposed to be. But you’re not giving me much choice here, you’re impossible to reach—“

“Did you ever think that I don’t wanna talk to you, Stark?” Bucky snaps, and wow, that stings. “That I’m avoidin’ you for a reason?”

“Well, at least tell me that reason!” Tony pleads. “Don’t I deserve at least that much?”

At that, Bucky deflates completely, ducking his head to stare at his feet, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “It’s dumb.”

“Bucky, _please_.”

“It’s hard,” Bucky mumbles after a moment, sighing, and sounding painfully resigned about it. “Seein’ you with him, all the time, I can’t do it, I’m sorry, but—“

He keeps talking but Tony isn’t listening anymore, his mind reeling with what it is Bucky has just confessed to him. Which—he has, hasn’t he? He totally has. Right? Right.

“—and I wanna keep bein’ your friend, I really do—“

“I’m in love with you,” Tony blurts, and yes, granted, not the smoothest delivery, but who cares?

Bucky blinks at him, mouth hanging open, for a long moment. “But what about Bruce?”

“What about him?” Tony frowns, not really following, his heart sinking again because he’s one-hundred percent convinced that he won’t ever live it down if he’s wrong about this, and Bucky is about to reject him.

“You’re with him. Like, _with_ with him. Aren’t you?”

“What—“ Tony starts, then has to shake his head to clear it. “Why would you—no, no I’m not with Bruce, we’re friends, good friends, best maybe, I don’t know, probably, if you can have more than one best friend, because there’s Rhodey and Steve and, well, you, and it seems cruel to favour one of you guys and—“

“But you cuddle,” Bucky thankfully interrupts Tony’s nervous rambling, looking adorably lost. “When we watch movies, on the couch, you cuddle. And you hug. The Hulk catches you, and then he hugs you. The Hulk doesn’t hug anyone else, it’s just you. You hold hands, you drag Bruce along by the hand all the time, and I saw you kiss—“

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Tony groans, the pieces finally slotting together. “This is why you’ve been distant and avoiding me? Because you’re jealous?”

Bucky glares. “Not jealous,” he grumbles, obviously very jealous.

Tony grins, crowds him back against the wall, and gently, sweetly presses their lips together. “Bruce is a friend,” he whispers, shuddering when Bucky’s free hand comes up to cradle the back of his head, fingers winding into his hair, and tugging softly. “And I’m a tactile person, I like touching people, I like physical contact. It’s not romantic, or sexual. Well,” he hums, leering a little, “it isn’t always.”

“But—“ Bucky says, cutting himself off with a moan when Tony nips at his pulse. “But the—the kiss—“

“We finally managed to synthesise the new material for Cap’s armour, we can make it thinner and sturdier now, give him more room to manoeuvre,” Tony explains, and gives a little shrug, one corner of his mouth curving up into a lopsided smile. “I got excited. He was unimpressed, and told me I tasted like stale coffee. That was it, that’s all there was to it, I swear, I don’t—“

Bucky kisses him again; deep, and lingering, and full of intent. “Love you, too,” he breathes, teasingly biting at Tony’s jaw, “so how about you release my arm, and I show you just how much?”

Tony nearly swallows his tongue in his haste to call out the order.


	36. Back to School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "HI just wanted to say I love this pairing and all of your works! I would love to see a fic where Bucky is found and living with all the Avengers and just wants to have a normal life so he decides to get his GED since his High School diploma is a little outdated and then he decides to go to college. can be community college or somewhere better since as teenagers Bucky always wanted Steve to do the whole college thing while he supported him. He should also ask Tony for help which leads to love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined with: "Imagine Tony feeling a deep affection (and yes, probably love) for the recovering assassin that lives in his Tower. Imagine him noticing how much said assassin loves seating in the common areas, quietly reading a book, concentrated; but strangely, he seems to be very slow. Then Tony understands that he’s not slow: he’s dyslexic. Imagine Bucky feeling ashamed that someone noticed, because back in his days, that made him be labeled as ‘lazy’ and ‘listless’, which he was not."

Objectively speaking, Tony knows what he’s doing could probably be classified as a little creepy, but he just can’t seem to help himself when it comes to James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky is not what Tony had expected after reading the Winter Soldier files about seven decades of torture and brainwashing and abuse, rather the opposite, in fact. Bucky is sweet and gentle, quiet and shy around people he doesn’t know but dedicated and loyal to the few he considers friends.

He cares, openly and unashamed, has a wicked sense of humour under his gruff exterior, and is the only person Tony has ever encountered who is not only unfazed by Tony’s tactile affection and constant rambling, but enjoys both of those things, and actively seeks them out.

In short; Bucky Barnes is perfect, and Tony didn’t have another choice but to fall head over heels in love with him.

So yes, Tony keeping an eye on Bucky and his recovery might not be an entirely selfless act, but when it comes down to it, Tony really does have the guy’s best interest at heart. Because unrequited or not, Tony Stark looks after the people he loves.

Even if that sometimes involves using his highly advanced AI to spy on a certain supersoldier during particularly boring board meetings, annoying business calls with Pepper, arguments with Steve, or just whenever Tony gives up on pretending that he isn’t absolutely pathetic, and needs his fix of Bucky.

It’s not that the two of them don’t spend any time together in person, face to face, because they do, a lot. Tony working on Bucky’s arm, tinkering on one of Tony’s cars together, sparring, watching movies, or simply sitting at the kitchen counter, coffees in hand and talking. They’ve become friends, and Tony tells himself it’s enough, only sometimes it isn’t.

Because sometimes Bucky still has bad days, days where he locks himself in his room, or doesn’t say a word, or spends hours down in the gym with a punching bag until his knuckles are bloody, and his mind quiet again.

Which is why Tony needs to make sure, from time to time, that he’s okay.

And it’s not as if Tony’s watching the guy shower or anything—not that he would be opposed to that, or possibly even joining him—all he does is ask JARVIS to bring up a live feed from the common living area when he knows Bucky’s in there, catching up on modern TV or reading.

Much like he is right now, curled up in one of the armchairs, wrapped up tightly in a fluffy blanket with a book balanced on his knees, and a steaming mug of tea at his elbow, completely absorbed in whatever fictional world his story is taking him to.

Tony only hesitates for a moment, chewing his bottom lip, before he jumps up, and turns off his soldering iron, decision made.

The small, private smile Bucky directs up at him when he hears Tony step into the room makes Tony’s insides go all warm and fuzzy, which, Tony thinks, even as he walks over to perch on the edge of Bucky’s chair, can’t be healthy.

“Reading anything interesting?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when Bucky blushes.

Blushing Bucky is dangerously adorable, and Tony quickly averts his eyes, staring at Bucky’s book instead, and noticing that, oddly enough, he’s doesn’t seem to have made much progress since Tony’s left his workshop a good seven minutes ago.

Another, closer look at the book reveals it to be a history text book, maybe about High School level, the empty spaces between the print filled with what have to be Bucky’s notes.

“It’s nothin’,” Bucky mumbles, and goes to snap the book shut, but Tony swiftly inserts a finger between the pages, flipping it back open. Bucky scowls, despite his still red cheeks. “Tony—“

“You’re studying,” Tony realises, and then, out of habit and before he can stop himself, points at one of Bucky’s scribbles, and says, “You missed an O there.”

Bucky tenses at that, his face going eerily, worryingly blank. “I’m not stupid,” he growls, the vehemence behind the statement actually startling Tony.

“Of course you’re not, I wasn’t—“

“I’m not stupid!” Bucky snaps, then closes his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, hands curled into fists in his lap. “I’m not stupid, I’m not. I’m just—I just—I can do it, I know this stuff, my brain’s just—it doesn’t—“ he stammers, cutting himself off with a frustrated groan.

“You’re dyslexic,” Tony finishes, seeing the patterns now that he’s looking for them.

Missing or extra letters, wrong words with the same as the word that's supposed to be there only with the letters in a different sequence, a couple of _b_ s instead of _d_ s and _W_ s instead of _M_ s and vice versa, misspelled high frequency words, and words copied wrongly out of the text in the book.

“Dis—what now?” Bucky demands, nose scrunched up, and mouth pushed out into a pout.

Tony has to bite back a smile before he can answer. “Dyslexic. It’s a learning disability. You have trouble reading? Writing? Sounding out or pronouncing words?” Bucky nods reluctantly. “Yeah, my guess would definitely be dyslexia.”

“So,” Bucky starts, drawing out the word, ”it’s a disease? Is it curable?”

“Not exactly,” Tony says, reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder when that makes Bucky’s tentatively hopeful face fall again. “But it’s manageable. I’m not an expert, but I think improving usually involves therapy, and learning compensation strategies. Like, here, do you have your tablet with you?”

Setting his book down, Bucky grabs his tablet, and hands it over, obviously curious now. Tony fiddles with the setting for a few moments, then gives it back, and watches Bucky’s eyes grow wide.

“This is so much easier to read!” he exclaims, beaming up at Tony all excitedly. “How’d you do that?”

Tony grins back, nudging Bucky’s leg with his foot. “There are special fonts for dyslexic people, they’re pre-installed on all StarkPads.”

“This is amazin’,” Bucky whispers, awed.

“I can make some calls,” Tony blurts, because he likes seeing Bucky this happy, and he’ll be damned if he can’t keep him that way. “Ask around, put you in contact with someone who knows more about this stuff.”

Very carefully, Bucky puts the tablet on the coffee table, and turns so he’s facing Tony, studying him intently. They’re close, their noses mere inches apart, and it would be so easy, Tony thinks, to kiss him right now, to taste and—

“Screw it,” Bucky says, fists his hand in Tony’s shirt, and pulls him in, gently pressing their lips together.

Tony makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, and Bucky gives a chuckle that turns into a moan when Tony flicks out his tongue, probing at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“Is—“ Tony gasps when Bucky moves to nuzzle his cheek, “is this a—a thank you? Or a—a—“

“Thank you,” Bucky hums, and nips at Tony’s jaw. “Thank you, and finally, and I like you, and shut up.”

Laughing, Tony slides down from his perch and halfway into Bucky’s lap, one hand finding itself in Bucky’s hair, and the other cupping the side of Bucky’s face, tender and reverent, as he kisses him again.

* * * * *

Tony does find a specialist who comes to the tower once a week to work with Bucky.

Bucky is ecstatic to find out how much he’s able to improve with the therapist’s help, and a hefty dose of stubborn dedication.

It doesn’t happen over night, but eventually, Bucky replaces his outdated, no long valid, and not all that great to begin with High School diploma with a GED certificate.

Tony takes him out to dinner that night to celebrate, and when he asks, during dessert, what Bucky’s plans are now, Bucky gets a mischievous twinkle in his eye, grins, throws a NYU pamphlet on the table between them and, before Tony has time to digest that fist piece of news, slides to one knee next to their table, open ring box in his hand.

“Next semester starts in the fall, so, a summer wedding?”

The not exactly innocent kiss Tony gives him in reply makes the front page of pretty much every newspaper for the next three days.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, go check out my ongoing winteriron [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/155609), have a look at my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works) or come say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For more amazing (Tony/Bucky) fics, visit [Finely Honed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed), [27dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/) and [InnerCinema](http://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema), three tremendously talented writers and my co-contributors on [imaginetonyandbucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/).


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